Sometimes We Smile
by Sleeps in Rain
Summary: The streets are his home and the wilds of LA his playground. She is a young model longing to shed a life of cameras, glitz, and glamor. The Fates must have a remarkable sense of humor. ::AU, Fuugen, Reviews Appreciated::
1. Prologue

**IMPORTANT**: I've finally had enough time to thoroughly dig through this story and the number of errors, inaccuracies, and parts that simply made no sense were surprising…and quite embarrassing. Then again, I did begin and produce most of this fic 6 years ago. I only wish I could have addressed these issues sooner, and I've become a bit of an obsessive perfectionist with this piece since it's the only story I've written so far that I have every intention to see through to its completion. I'm very sure I still haven't managed to eliminate all punctuation mistakes, but that is slightly less important to me than the atrocities I uncovered. I've added details where they were lacking, removed those that were unnecessary or pointless, and made a number of other general adjustments that were, in my eyes, really holding this story back from being everything I'm hoping it will be. It's also my first SC story, so it's pretty special to me. Anyway, I apologize for the lack of care previously taken with this story and hope it has not greatly impaired anyone's understanding or enjoyment of my work. As always, thank you for reading and comments are welcome.

**{Sometimes We Smile}**

**x x x x**

"_Jerry, to lane six. Jerry, to lane six_."

This guy was lucky it was a Monday night. This wouldn't make the first time one of the local grocery store's employees filched a can of this or a box of that to feed a needy stomach. One needy stomach in particular.

The jumpy young clerk maneuvered his way through the last vanishing throng of customers, all appearing either too exhausted from the demands of the day or agitated that, at the moment, the only person available to take care of them was outside taking a personal phone call. He could only hope no one had noticed the questionable bulge of his pockets as he chattered mindlessly to a nonexistent lover on his cell phone.

Before he had a chance to confirm his concealment from prodding eyes, a hand with all the force of a vice gripped his shoulder.

"Jesus _Christ_, man! What the hell's your problem?" the fellow hissed, fighting off his initial urge to run. He shot a nervous glance back at the store, his heart sinking fast as several shoppers were heading to their cars, fuming and empty-handed.

A coarse little chuckle broke the silence as its owner stepped out from the shadows, his hand outstretched and expectant.

"I'm not doing this again, got it? If my ass gets fired, _you're_ finding me another job."

The clerk emptied his pockets of their contents and shoved them forcefully into the scrawny, waiting hands. Tonight was the first time he had been able to get a good look at the guy, since he apparently preferred clinging to the dark and making his requests only when the moon was up.

An expression that melted from eager delight to blatant disappointment washed over the man's dark, emaciated features.

"I'm halfway to my deathbed from starvin' and all you could manage was a couple bags of chips and a sports drink?"

Amazed at such audacity, the employee promptly sent the bum on his merry way to hell and strode angrily back to the supermarket, certain he was without a job as of tomorrow.

With only the thought of surviving another muggy summer night to console him, the vagrant who had been the haunt of the town's Save-a-Lot blended back into the night's beloved shade. Dinner was always his favorite meal.


	2. The Game, The Players

**Chapter 1- The Game, The Players**

**X X X X**

A pair of rich chocolaty eyes still misty with exhaustion fluttered open as the first rays of dawn kissed her brow. In vain, the young woman tried to convince herself that today was not Wednesday. No, today was any other day, but not a godforsaken Wednesday. To a typical girl her age, it meant another monotonous day of class filled with long, hopelessly boring lectures and maybe a party or two to sneak off to during the wee hours to compensate for them. Instead, here she was. Tired. Stressed. And beautiful.

During the rare occasions that her hectic life allowed for solitude, she would sit and ponder over how she had gotten here in the first place. It had only been a little over two years, but it felt like she had spent the majority of her young life in front of the camera, posing for this or signing that. There were perks, of course. Big ones. But lately, it was all beginning to seem like a thorn in her side that was only digging its way in deeper. She wanted desperately to remove it.

Struggling from her slumber, she managed to plant both delicate, manicured feet firmly on the floor. Dreading the hours of frenzied preparation that were to come, she took one final glance at the time before initiating her morning ritual. Hopefully, this wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.

* * *

His insides had never churned and rumbled so violently as they did right now. With the salty taste of last night's morsels teasing his lips, he trudged warily along the sidewalk with the bizarre hope that nature would take a divinely directed turn in his favor by making it rain Twinkies. Even the skinless corpses of fresh rabbits hanging in the window of an Asian cuisine tempted him.

Staring into the dull, lifeless eyes of the little critters, Mugen weighed his options: steal and risk the chance of being imprisoned again (but this time with a full stomach) or get his moment of fame on the front page informing the world of his pitiful demise on some old lady's doorstep. The former was much more appealing, because there was the added bonus of having a cot to sleep on.

Nonchalance and overconfidence coursing through his veins, the scraggly man ambled his way through the entrance, prepared to hone in on his victim. For the owner, it was as if Satan himself had taken a break from the underworld and walked straight into his establishment.

"You out of luck my fren, we no serve animal here!"

Was this son of a bitch serious or just downright stupid? And he was going to go about the whole thing decently too.

A sly, deliberate smirk came to the stranger's face as he moved closer, radiating defiance.

Now the owner was fairly up in age, but not so much that he was unable to take this guy's body language and psychotic grin as a threat. Fishing anxiously beneath the counter for the phone, he spoke with a wavering voice,

"I-I call cop…"

Letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, Mugen propped an elbow upon the counter, his chin resting in one hand as the finger of the other slid a menu into view. Flipping it open in one rapid motion, he muttered to himself quietly as he scanned the contents.

"Now you say you don't serve animals. So I can safely assume General Tso's chicken isn't really chicken?"

Nerves somewhat eased but hand still tightly wrapped around the receiver, the man behind the counter nodded.

He was smiling inside. By nature, he wasn't prone to playing psychological cat-and-mouse games with witless old geezers, but necessity called for it and he utilized it with all the cunning of a venomous serpent.

"Well I'll be damned! You're using human flesh in your cooking now? Have you bastards really stooped that _low_?"

At those words, the two women at the farthest corner of the restaurant glanced up from their intense conversation about the complexities of marriage and gawked.

Deeply alarmed by his mistake, the old man shook his head hard.

"NO! Cheeken is cheeken! What you want?"

"Well," Mugen tapped his fingers deviously as he pointed out his selections, "I want this…and this…and whatever the hell that is…and…" He paused and observed the refrigerator.

"A Coke."

As if he hadn't already had enough torment for one day, the owner stood firm, refusing to budge.

"Too expensive. All seafood. You not afford."

A stubborn one.

About facing, Mugen slowly made his way back to the door.

"Alrighty, I'll just tell everyone I know, who just so happen to _love _Chinese, that the service here is shitty and-"

Within the span of ten minutes or so, the women's idle drivel turned to raising questions about the homeless fellow who just walked out of the place with an armful of take-out containers and a pleased grin on his face. They had never seen poor Mr. Hu so flustered before.


	3. What Lurks Within

**Chapter 2- What Lurks Within**

**X X X X**

At over thirty thousand feet of boundless morning sky, she was as good as trapped. Not that she was unused to such lengthy airborne treks. Stabbing little crescent moons into the skin of an orange with the nail of her thumb, she squeezed the fruit until its juice dribbled down her hands. Perhaps it was shedding tears.

"Fuu, what are you doing?"

The composed firmness of the man's voice made her wince inside.

Rolling her eyes, the girl gazed out at the vast expanse of cloud scrolling past her window. She despised being questioned by him and he sometimes gave her the willies despite the fact that they had known one another for most of her life. Focusing now on his reflection in the glass, she could tell that he was quite displeased.

"I would have thought you'd be past the preschool stage by now."

She could feel her face scrunching into its standard frustrated scowl. Even so, the man's air of elegance and passivity subdued the sudden urge to slap him. He harassed her without end; she couldn't eat this or wear that or go there. The situation was almost comparable to an 18th-century don and his mistress, except he didn't own _her_. He owned the world to which she belonged: Ume International Modeling Association. What men worldwide otherwise referred to as "the babe factory". The place indeed functioned like one: take an attractive female still blessed with the years of her youth, mold her into a knockout vixen, and place her upon the world's pedestal for all to fawn over. And it was just her luck to be the most coveted showpiece of all.

Shifting in his seat, the man ran his fingers pretentiously through his long, jet black locks. He resembled something antique, a peculiar irony since he was only twenty-four and possessed a rather dignified aura of beauty himself. Thin-faced and pale, he looked like someone who spent entirely too much time indoors.

"There are paper towels in the snack bar. I suggest you get yourself cleaned up."

As a feeble attempt at rebellion, the girl remained in her seat for several more moments before shooting up and storming away to retrieve the towels. It was almost as if he literally got off by making her miserable. Upon her return, he immediately flashed the remainder of the week's schedule in front of her.

"Madrid for today and tomorrow, Rome Friday and Saturday. I personally saw to it that you received Sunday for leisure time. You might want to catch up on your rest."

"I can't do this anymore," Fuu whispered under her breath, turning away from the hellish paper.

"You what?"

"Nothing…"

Although they rarely conversed, whatever words that did exist between them were brisk and to the point, with the occasional squabble on her part. Never allowing his exterior to crack like the ice he so perfectly mimicked, somewhere deep inside was a sort of brotherly affection for this surly brat. Perhaps that affection would have evolved into something more if it were not for tense moments such as these.

"You're being ridiculous. You're simply too young to fully appreciate the benefits of your lifestyle. I'm certain as you mature-"

"Don't give me that, Jin. I've heard enough of your excuses."

Had it been anyone else, he would never have tolerated the use of his first name so casually. One especially useful skill among the many in his arsenal was commanding respect without the exertion most men at his professional status put into it. Just as effortlessly, this girl made him feel strangely insignificant. All at once, he was ashamed for reasons he didn't quite understand. It was going to be a long, long trip.

* * *

The sun hovered ominously in a clear cerulean sky, scorching all that lay beneath it. Hunger he could handle. Even the murderous chill of a heavy night rainfall. But the sun- as it sat up there in its heavenly throne, mocking him -was the thing he loathed most of all.

Tugging at the grimy shirt that clung to his lean body like a fourth layer of skin, Mugen walked. Up until now, he hadn't given the importance of his own hygiene any consideration. The stench of sweat, urine, old food, and other atrocities filled his nostrils. If he was going to wander around town like this, it would be nice not having to look like the subject of a documentary exposing the squalid conditions of some desperately impoverished third-world country. Even his scalp ached from mats so tight he practically had dreads.

And now that he was working on a full stomach, other things started coming to mind. Things that once almost brought him to his knees.

_She suffered because of you…_

Sensing those old demons coming back to haunt him, he tried pushing them away far, far back into some dark little corner of his psyche. The corner that never saw the light of remembrance.

Unable to tear his attention away from the diabolical thoughts now hassling him, he scanned his surroundings. Thoughtfully, almost childishly. That voice was the only thing that had ever truly taught him the meaning of fear. The definition of shame. Not because of its tone, not because of anything other than the things it told him. Things no kid should have to hear.

_Her life was a goddamn struggle. She wasted half of it on you and look what you turned around and did._

The heat was dizzying. He almost thought he could hear the distorted echoes of voices somewhere in the distance. Young voices. Laughing and swearing. God knows how far he must have traveled by now. His mind was spinning and, oddly enough, he could feel his flesh cooking. He was on fire. He was eleven years old and he was on fire.


	4. Patience, My Child

**Chapter 3- Patience, My Child**

**X X X X**

_All of the other kids weren't out that night. The street, normally brimming with children from every apartment on the block, was barren. Every December came and went as it always did: the madness of shopping, dingy sidewalk Santas, all the traditional bedlam of everyone's favorite day of the year. It wasn't his, though. Every year that followed Dad's Day, as his mother had christened it, was a poor one. Literally._

_The boy's body hung limply as it lay sprawled across the old battered couch in their grossly undersized living room. Everything about the place seemed more fit for elves than human beings. Swinging his skinny little limbs about, he sang with all the ignorant joy so characteristic of his age,_

_"On the first day of Christmas my mom-ma gave to me…a-nother fuck-ing pair of shooooes!"_

_He would soon regret his loose tongue. Within seconds, the rapid flapping of sandals slammed into the floor of the hall, resembling the crack of the guns that so often could be heard outside, taking more lives than they saved._

_His mother closed the space between them at a demonic pace and wasted no time pummeling him to the floor, brandishing one of her flip-flops. Between slaps, she hissed,_

_"What did I say about that kinda talk? You wanna end up like your father? Like that no good motherfucker?"_

_Squirming from her brutish grasp, he backed away like a frightened little dog, knocking into the sad excuse of a tree they had spent less than a few minutes setting up. The lights twinkled haphazardly, like dozens of colorful eyes observing all that took place before them. Completely ignoring the tiny shatter of a beloved ornament, the woman continued her attack, only this time verbally and in rapid fire Spanish._

_Standing before her short, pudgy frame, the kid could only stare. Did he really say that big of a deal? Now she was rambling on about how low his father was and how she couldn't believe her own son was going to grow into the same thing, if not worse._

_Eyeing the tiny fragments of the porcelain angel, tears glazed her black eyes. Unbelievably black. The circles beneath them warranted pity that he could not give. It surprised him at times how little he felt for the woman._

_"Apologize, you little…" she trailed off._

_A rage crawled within him like a hideous beast pacing beneath the surface of his sanity. Every day she would run through her routine of sobbing, yelling, and throwing fits. And somehow, the blame always managed to be placed on his shoulders._

_"I should've done what he wanted me to do with you, you ungrateful little prick."_

_Her voice was trembly and weak, fading with every step he took away from her._

"_Don't you walk away from me, Mugen!" she called after him._

_He never imagined that night would be the very last time he would ever hear that voice again. Stand at the frame of her door and watch her cry 'til the redness of her eyes and face was awful to look at. He had only wanted to see how she was able to "take the edge" off whenever she was too upset to cope on her own. Of course, he wasn't quite sure just what it was he was rolling up into a little white burrito. That's what he called those things he always caught her smoking: Mom's Burritos. In the pitch darkness he sat. The room had a spooky chill to it and smelled of something foreign he couldn't identify. The flicker of flame the lighter produced comforted him in a way. A brief ribbon of light. Sometimes he thought, if he just looked hard enough, he could see Jesus. He smiled mischievously at his own twisted thinking: to see the Son of God in the Devil's medium. He never did pay much attention to her endless nonsense about salvation and temptation and all those other words that ended in "-ation"._

_The sudden slam of a door was all it took. She was looking for him. He jumped. And just like that, in an instant, the world was snuffed out. She would be too concerned with punishing him to allow the smell of smoke to register. To realize that the windows were barred. Those windows she hated because they reminded her of jail, reminded her of the place her husband was carted away to and the place she was so determined to keep her child away from._

_Like the majority of events that made up the fabric of his life, everything happened in one terrific mass. No space, no time. He choked. The blaze blinded him and the heat…it made her scream. Blind and straining to breathe, he moved. Like an animal gone mad, he ran. How fire could grow so quickly he would never understand, but he ran. And then…all was silent. Only the crackle and vicious roar of flames. He was outside. Even the humidity of the night was like a caress of relief. Hot sweat and tears burned his eyes. Maybe someone led him out. Maybe…_

_Several weeks would pass like murky water under a crumbling bridge. His aunt proved just as harsh as his mother. Apparently, having the courts dump her sister's burden into her lap was anything but amusing._

_"All she wanted was to make a better life for you both. Always mouthing off, giving her grief. I'm glad it wasn't me, boy, 'cuz I woulda sent your bony little ass packing a long time ago. Ya came into this world an illegitimate mistake and I'll stake my life that's exactly what you'll die as."_

_She paused for a long time. A painful silence broken only by the sound of her dry lips parting to speak more poison._

_"Maybe you could do us all a favor and make that soon."_

_He couldn't hear. The only thing that filled his ears was her desperate cries. Cries of sheer anguish as her life met a lonely, blistering end. They had found his mother, what was left of her, clutching a photo. Singed and barely identifiable, a little face peered out from its frozen snapshot in time. It was the one that always caused him to find the nearest available exit from the room whenever she decided to pass it around to visitors like a Show and Tell project. She always seemed to have it with her, ready at a moment's notice to show off his mile-wide, nearly toothless grin that closely resembled a white picket fence with numerous panels missing. It sickened him that they were unable to put the fire out on time to save her but had done so quickly enough to prevent that stupid picture from being consumed for good._

_"Where is my son? Where is my baby?"_

_Those final words would forever leave him with chills._

* * *

"Hey, you okay buddy?"

Phones were ringing. The place smelled unnaturally clean.

Unfamiliar faces surrounded him, whispering and staring as if they were observing some fabulous new zoo exhibition. The words "wild" and "stink" popped up occasionally.

Taking several moments to allow himself to process his surroundings, Mugen lay deathly still, not bothering to acknowledge the concerned individuals now watching intently.

"Man, you hit that pavement like a sack a' bricks. Didn't you hear the code red announced on the news today? Heat wave's a killer, kiddo."

He felt cold. Trying to stand proved futile, as his legs quaked beneath him like those of a newborn lamb. This was bullshit.

"Wh-who…who the hell are you?" he managed faintly.

Everyone else had left one by one as he came to. Only one rather bald, stout fellow remained. He had a stupid smile on his thickly bearded face.

"I brought ya here. You're gonna have to stay for a little while, though. The doc says you suffered heat stroke. You know my grandmoth-"

"Shut up."

Forcing himself to his feet, Mugen tossed the ice packs that smothered him to the floor and headed for the nearest exit.

"Hey, you can't do-"

"Watch me."

He swung the emergency doors open and vanished into the whiteness a merciless California sun had created.


	5. Out Yonder

**Chapter 4- Out Yonder**

**X X X X**

_"Sometimes, we find that the birth of a new day brings with it many things: new opportunities, new beginnings. Then our eyes gradually open. No longer are we slaves to our own misconceptions. Happiness is, in fact, nothing more than a firefly: it glows softly, just out of reach. Like a beacon shrouded in blackness, it belongs to those brave enough to simply cup their hands and capture it."_

_~Hayato Takeda, father of Jin Takeda_

* * *

The day of rest that had been promised to her had come on slow, silent wings. Her time prior to now seemed without structure, flowing from one day to the next, linked only by the incessant sound of shutters, photographers making commands, people smothering her.

"I need _time_, Jin. Can you give that to me?"

Of course he realized her unrest. He would observe her from time to time, completely engrossed in the world below a hotel balcony. A world she gave beauty to yet received none in return. A world she was so very isolated from, despite the fact that she had set foot on nearly every continent of its surface. He would only watch this and say nothing.

"I cannot give you what isn't already there. You always were a particularly fractious girl, at any rate."

His tone rang colder to her ear than usual. Perfectly detached and impassive. And what did "fractious" even _mean_?

He had mentally disarmed her, leaving her helpless and on the brink of exploding with frustration. She could do nothing more than stammer before marching back to her room. Furious with the only paternal influence that existed in the blur that was her life. Though she harbored unexpressed feelings of resentment toward this silent man, this man that gave to yet took so much from her, Fuu could not bring herself to hate him. He was, really, what saved her.

Roughly wiping away tears she had forced back for so long, the girl recalled the days before her life had changed so drastically. The days that were filled with the loving gazes of her father. She saw herself, holding his frail hands, kissing his chilly cheeks. He felt like death. He smelled like sunflowers.

_"Daddy, you're freezing…"_

_The man lay motionless in his hospital bed, smiling weakly. His body had become all but useless._

_"Don't let me see you cry, sweetheart. Your old man has gone through enough."_

_In fact, he wasn't very old at all, barely having reached his thirty-eighth year. He wanted to touch her face, but she was too high to reach and too angry to give him the courtesy of making herself accessible._

_The fourteen-year-old sobbed harder._

_"You lied to me…" she choked. "I have nothing now."_

_Turning his eyes upward, the man stared thoughtfully into the ceiling above them. The simple act of breathing was not only the most difficult challenge he faced, but one he found himself hoping to be free of soon. Pain was his only reality now, yet somehow the man still mustered enough strength to keep a smile on for his Tori-chan._

_"Fuu, we both knew this day would come eventually. Everyone has to make peace with the fact that there will come a time they won't exist any more. This just happens to be mine, that's all. Do you remember what I told you about the future?"_

_He turned to her now, a sparkle in his eyes that echoed wisdom so deep it almost frightened her._

_"That someday God would bring everyone back again?"_

_It seemed the tears would never cease to fall at that point. But he continued talking, as if he refused to leave this earth without confirming his daughter's understanding of his words. He was a stubborn Ox but the gentlest creature the girl had ever known. The thought of someone like this leaving her behind in a faceless world of strangers, in a place where wickedness far outnumbered the good, was beyond belief._

_'And when that day comes, none of this," he said, gesturing around them and to the patients passing outside their door," will exist. No pain, no suffering."_

_He brushed her face gently._

_"No tears."_

_"I can't be alone…you __**can't**__ leave me alone…"_

_"And I saw to it that that would never happen. I'm leaving you in the best of hands."_

_The cough that followed was agonizingly long._

_"I don't like him…I don't wanna model, I don't want any of this! I just want you, Dad. Just you."_

_She stood suddenly, dropping her father's hand. She stood there, glaring and numb._

_"I understand. But a friend of the family is the only family you have now. I hope one day you'll come to accept that."_

_The wheezing spell that had attacked the night before without mercy was back with a vengeance now, and she shuddered to see him struggle._

_Clasping her delicate hand in his own, with final desperation, he gave it a tight squeeze._

_"My little bird."_

_She would have had so many more conversations with him if they had just had more time, but his condition stole another piece of him day by day until nothing else was left. Not a voice, not sight, not even enough spark to twitch a finger in response to the one she often curled around his just to see if he would look at her again. He never did._

From then on, she always kept him with her in the form of sunflowers. Planting seeds here and there. Plucking petals and collecting them. And at last she learned to see Jin as more than some aloof stranger. Her father had been great friends with his parents, who had founded Ume International with little more than their meager savings from Nagasaki.

Now, she sat outside on the balcony again, legs dangling through the bars so that when she peered down it seemed as if she were walking over the city itself. Like a powerful, massive creature. She could go anywhere she wanted. And so she would.

* * *

The past three days were a nightmare. The intensity of the heat itself was enough to paralyze him during his travels. He had advanced at a slow pace, barely making it outside the outskirts of town.

Today, however, was the break he had been hoping for. With renewed motivation, he pressed on, clueless as to where he was headed or what he would do when he reached wherever it was he was going.

The clatter of the truck's engine grated at his nerves as it rolled on by. He had successfully cajoled the delivery guys of a rickety old fruit market to let him hitch a ride. With all this noise, he almost preferred putting his aching feet to work again.

The two men sat lazily among their cargo, cawing loudly in course, ugly accents. He didn't speak a word to them throughout the entire trip, preferring to read each traffic sign as it rolled into view: No Parking Anytime. Share the Road. One Way. Stop.

It would be several hours before his own stop would come. It was late evening, and the two delivery fellows waved stupidly to their new travel buddy as he strolled away, hands stuck deep in the pockets of his strange shorts. They sure didn't recall anyone dressing like that back at home.

Mugen walked for several minutes before stopping to observe the nothingness around him.

_Great, where did those idiots leave me?_

The place was the Yin to the Yang he originated from. Sleepy and what he considered quite desolate, the place was surrounded by water. Not a skyscraper to be found. No colossal structures or buildings of any kind. In fact, he had to wonder if people lived here at all.

Judgments, however, should not be made with haste.

* * *

Escape was the greatest decision she had ever made. But now that she thought about it clearly, it was the only decision she had made for herself in a long time.

The palms swayed gently and increased in number as she progressed further and further away from the Four Seasons. It felt good to be outside instead of stuffed in a room of silk, marble, and oak. Out here, there were no cameras, no bodyguards, and no Jin.

Yet, as she click-clacked her way through the streets, her confidence sagged more and more. What if he panicked and overreacted? Filed a report? The last thing she needed was to see her face on some missing person billboard or abducted child flyer. Perhaps she could call him, tell him she just went out for a little fresh air.

But that was defeating the entire purpose, wasn't it?

Slipping the phone back into its place inside her handbag, Fuu continued. It was thrilling that not once was she stopped or harassed by some adoring fan or obsessive maniac. Although she felt unbearably plain without the usual lavish embellishments she had grown accustomed to, the freedom it afforded was well worth it.

By the time she had completely left behind the traffic of weary workers raring to get home, Fuu had found herself somewhere she wished she hadn't.

_Where am I?_

It was deathly still and the silence was unnerving. Though the sight of a well-lit and quickly filling club across the street was somewhat of a comfort, the place was still a tad on the eerie side. Concluding that people must still be en route to returning home, Fuu kept moving. Despite the inactivity, there was a type of peace accompanying the sense of gloom here and suddenly she didn't feel so out of place. Maybe this was what she needed; a place as empty as she was.

But there was one thing she finally realized that she certainly _would_ need: a place to stay overnight. As she paced the boardwalk of the harbor, she remained fixed on the lone boat that floated soundlessly upon dormant waters. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, she observed. From its outward appearance alone, the thing was obviously deserted. Completely abandoned. No lights shone, no voices or music echoed from within. Its hull probably hadn't seen a good cleaning in years.

Apprehension would hold her where she was for an hour or so before curiosity, that cheeky devil, finally stirred her to action. Upon closer inspection the boat was much larger than she had first estimated, realizing that it was in fact a yacht.

"Little Thor", she read from a peeling decal branding the stern of the great beast. A cartoonishly stylized Viking helmet complete with pigtails and a hammer sprouted from the letters that made up both words.

Venturing on deck and eventually inside, she discovered that not only was it abandoned, but in complete disorder from the inside out. Magazines, newspapers, and a myriad of empty flasks and wine glasses littered the floors and counters. Evidently, someone loved the bottle as much as reading the horoscope.

Clearing enough space for herself to curl up in, Fuu took one last nervous look around before taking shelter behind the bar. She didn't care if what she was doing was akin to insanity. Whatever she was doing, it could never be any worse than what she had just left behind.

* * *

**Chapter Notes**

xxxx

**Tori: **bird

**"-chan": **a Japanese honorific suffix denoting affection for a young child, animal, or girl/woman.


	6. A Sheep in the Tiger Den

**Chapter 5- A Sheep in the Tiger Den  
**

**X X X X**

Perhaps it was the subtle uneasiness that didn't allow her to slip into a decent sleep. Perhaps it was the fear of Jin and the rest of the universe flying into a tizzy because for the first time someone wasn't keeping tabs on her. She knew she didn't belong here, either way. This was a fleeting feeling, though. The gentle motions of the boat swaying and bobbing as the water teased it eventually lulled the girl into one of the most peaceful, undisturbed rests she had ever known. Or so had been the case, before something leapt out at her from the darkness like a demon.

Feeling the breath literally pressed out of her, Fuu found her voice completely stifled with terror and could only squirm and wriggle like captive game. In the hazy state between consciousness and slumber, she could barely identify her attacker; whatever it was possessed incredible power. As spindly fingers dug themselves deeper into her throat, she finally managed to find her composure. And her foot. Instinctively, she rammed the heel of her shoe hard and repeatedly. Whatever she was kicking was unusually spongy.

Then, just as randomly as it had all happened, she was released.

"_FUCK!"_

Scrambling to her feet, Fuu jumped around the huddled mass on the floor and ran for the nearest visible bottle. Smashing it in half, she wielded it fiercely, quite ready to engage in an all-out brawl if she had to. But the mass didn't move. Instead, she could hear it muttering and growling words she never even knew existed.

"You bitch…", a guttural utterance retaliated.

Daring to take a single step closer, Fuu remained silent, her jagged weapon poised for attack.

Several minutes passed with the two figures frozen where they stood-or, in the guy's case, knelt. At last, she decided that if he really wanted to do anything, he would have done so by now no matter what condition his crotch was in.

"Look, if I intruded, I'm really sorry. I honestly thought this thing was abandoned."

No response. Had she really injured him that badly? She couldn't see how her weak little body could pack such a kick. Keeping the bottle safely out of the man's reach, she very slowly stepped closer.

"I-I'll help you up."

Dropping to all fours, he shakily got to his feet. She tightened her grip around the neck of the bottle, shimmying around to the opposite side of the bar. If need be, she could make a mad dash for the deck from here.

Light gently trickled back into the room as clouds floated past the face of a brilliant August moon. And still he was cloaked in shadow. He was breathing hard. With controlled fury.

"Get out…"

Happy to comply, Fuu inched her way toward the exit, never turning her back to him. Her neck was throbbing with pain; she was guaranteed to be bruised. She let her fingers search blindly along the handle of the door and pushed. To her dismay, it didn't budge. The damn thing was locked.

"I can't, it's locked", she squeaked.

Without warning, he turned around and walked over towards her. Panic resurfacing within, she hopped aside as he pushed through. A sliver of ghostly light danced across his face. He was dark. Feral. Eyes like onyx. Glancing down, she caught sight of something strange about his wrists as he fiddled with the lock. A pattern swirled about them, blue and circular in appearance.

Flinging the door open, he stood without looking at her once. A warm puff of wind stirred his hair. He glared straight ahead, out at the sparkling surface of the water that surrounded them. She wasn't moving, and he could feel her eyes studying him.

"You tryin' to figure out how to rearrange my balls again or what?"

Snapping out of the trance, Fuu was struck with an embarrassment that caught her off guard.

"I really am sor-"

With a violent shove, the man ushered her outside and slammed the door. Whirling around angrily, she was surprised to find that he was still standing there. Hands in his pockets, simply glowering. Though she couldn't be sure, he may have been deep in thought. It was difficult to imagine what ran through the mind of someone like this. Sensing that this was becoming a kind of stare down, Fuu trotted briskly down the stairs of the deck and made her way back to the boardwalk.

He watched her; a small, lithe little creature. For the briefest moment he thought he didn't want to see her leave. Too many times things had walked in and out of his world, hardening him against the fear or consequence of loss. And though he had no clue who this woman was, she left him feeling a little emptier. Colder, even.

Lifting his hands up slightly, he gazed into them. They weren't the chubby hands of a little boy anymore. They could hurt. They could protect. Yes, this was his territory. He would accept no intruders.

* * *

**A/N: **I've had quite a hard time choosing an appropriate title for this chapter and as a result have changed it numerous times. Here's hoping this one's a keeper.


	7. To Lose a Pearl

**Chapter 6- To Lose a Pearl**

**X X X X**

Minutes ticked away into hours. Now, time- that flighty stallion he could so easily maneuver before -was gradually turning a stern, stolid businessman into a pacing lunatic. He had probably made dozens of calls, all of which were never returned. Never even received, he feared. The authorities had deemed it wiser to keep their questions to a minimum, seeing that despite his emotionless expression, the man's head was indeed swimming with anxiety.

_I've __**told **__her. I've told her never to wander off._

Ignoring the mayhem of news reporters and phones ringing off their hooks, Jin sat. He had done all he could now. Soon, every paper, every television in the nation would be bearing the news:

_**"Ume's Finest Blossom, Missing. President Offers Huge Sum."**_**  
**  
_**"Have You Seen This Girl?"**_

Their indifference aggravated him inside. They exchanged sardonic looks among themselves (thinking, of course, that he wasn't looking) and tried to assure him that not enough time had passed yet to begin conducting a search let alone releasing the case to the media, even for a minor. Yet he insisted and demanded and no one was really in the position to refuse him. Though he fought the temptation, terrible images began seeping in. All of the sick, heinous things a deranged psychopath could do. How helpless she was. Little by little, he came to the horrifying conclusion that they might have acted too late already. Fuu didn't stand a chance. Hell, the girl barely knew how to take a bus if she had to.

Fortifying these thoughts came those of the girl's father. The promise he had made. Practically a sworn oath of her protection and happiness, neither of which he was able to provide. Now, a single minuscule incident had sent all of his glory and dreams spiraling to the abyss. No longer was he an icon of grandeur, an epitome of success. He was a disgrace. To himself, to the dear friend of his father, to her.

_"She's a little thing right now, but once I'm gone, she will be alone in this world. That is something I cannot allow, you understand me, son?"_

_"Yes sir", the young man nodded. He looked up at his ailing friend, perched peacefully upon the porch swing. He was to turn eighteen come winter. He never imagined the man he had known since childhood would be asking this thing of him._

_"Her mother was an incredible woman. You were too young to remember her, but a good woman…" _

_The older man stopped speaking for several minutes, likely remembering his wife._

_"I hear your parents are passing the business on to you pretty soon, eh?" he chirped, brushing away the veil of sadness his face wore only seconds ago._

_"Yes, Seizo-san…they are."_

_"I've never asked anything of your family, Jin-kun. Your friendship has been a gift to me. But now, I'm asking you to promise just one thing: take care of my daughter. I think over time, she will learn."_

At the time, he didn't understand those words. What would she learn? It wasn't until several years later that the answer would occur to him. That this was all merely a stepping stone. Their careers were there to secure financial stability. But the rest, that was something that could never be taught to her, nor something to convince her of.

To love. That was the thing that must come about on its own. He had never wanted anything so soon as he did now.

* * *

Like a kid on Christmas morning, Mugen picked through the contents now scattered before him. Now he was truly thankful that girl had chosen to invade his turf.

Organizing the items into little piles, he collected those that interested him most. Namely, the credit cards, the cash, and the thing that had sent him hurtling out of sleep several times throughout the night.

Flipping the phone open, he snooped through the various menus and options presented to him. Four voicemails, twenty-one missed calls. The name Jin appeared on every one.

"Hm, she that good? Coulda fooled me."

Setting the device aside for the moment, he got down to the real prize. He tingled with anticipation as he counted each bill and tallied up the plastic.

"This chick's loaded!"

Sliding the fat bundle into his left pocket (being the cleaner of the two) Mugen prepared himself. Life might finally start looking up.

* * *

It was shameful how long it took her to realize. In all her alarm from last night, she had literally left her life behind in the form of one Hello Kitty handbag. Now she knew it was on. Was it somehow hidden away from his sight? Had he gone out without noticing?

Questions and fears taunted her as she flew through jam-packed sidewalks, leaving behind a trail of stunned spectators. At this point, whether or not she had shoes on was immaterial. The fact that she was tripping over strollers and stepping on the toes of several pooches mattered not. Right now, she was too busy cursing herself to allow anything to stop her. She had to get back to that yacht.

Perhaps if she hadn't allowed herself to indulge in the sin of ignorance, she would have noticed the newspaper stands and magazine covers with her own face adorning them, this time not with the purpose of exhibiting the latest fashion trend from Berlin.

Why did she have to wander so far away? Why couldn't she have just stayed in the area? The harbor seemed like ages away.

* * *

It's hard to remember you only have two hands when your life's been one long string of deprivation. In a blissful state of shopping ecstasy, Mugen had lost track of how much of someone else's money he had spent. Whoever this girl was, she had it made and he was certain that getting his fair share of the world's wealth more than balanced out the inequalities of the universe.

It was like a world that had always been there, existing as an entity both detached and in perfect harmony with the sea of lost hope he had been condemned to navigate. The mall was his church, the clerk his pastor, and the noisy, hurrying shoppers his congregation. He now belonged to an elite group (if only momentarily), a rung on the social ladder few people reached. And, to his enchanted mind, there was nothing that could not be his. Where at first there was nothing of interest to be found in this forgotten corner of the West coast, there now was a place that offered him all his heart's desire.

Thankfully there wouldn't be much of an issue with cardholder discrepancies because Sugar Daddy Jin had inadvertently left his name up for grabs thanks to the airheaded twit he had entrusted it with. A dash of theatrics didn't hurt either, and Mugen came to appreciate his talents as purchases were approved and he stacked up more and more goodies.

Taking a moment to admire the new stranger staring back at him in the mirror, he smiled with triumph. So what if the money wasn't his? And so what if he did technically steal from a woman who he did technically assault without real justification? Brushing the tiny pang of guilt aside like salt off a table, he slid a pair of freshly bought spiked cuffs onto his wrists and went back for more. He could always catch a cab later.

* * *

For what felt like days, she waited. The rocking of the boat only served to augment her growing frustration as she made one last sweep of the place. The bastard had taken everything: her money, her phone, even her damn sunglasses. Now she had to think. Was he even coming back? By now, he had probably maxed out every card to be found and left her stranded and penniless. Deciding it was best to take a break for the time being, she trotted back onto the deck to sulk.

Allowing the hopelessness of the situation to engulf her, Fuu felt herself ready to burst into tears at any moment. She had no idea where she was or even how to get back to the hotel. There wasn't a single cent to use a payphone and she was too shy and embarrassed to bother asking anyone for help. But Lord help the jerk if he did return. There was a spot in hell with his name on it.

* * *

The first drizzle of a long-awaited downpour began to fall by the time he had given his little spree a rest.

He had made it a moment too late for the last taxi and was stuck waiting for the next one to show up. He looked like a fool standing at the corner with his precious loot, bags circling his feet and several more burdening his arms. Clothes to make up for the last, what was it, ten years?

As the minutes dragged on, he became bored. Scanning the contents of a nearby newsstand, he delighted at the latest issues of Playboy plastered across the front. As his eyes flitted to and fro with glee among the buffet of breasts and backsides, they came across something else. Something that made them nearly bulge from their sockets.

A creamy, feminine figure posed gracefully before him. Clothed in an elegant evening gown and diamonds winking from her earlobes, the girl's somber face had a mystifying effect. Or, it would have, if he had not immediately recognized who it was.

"Sh…shit…"

Then, if that was her…no, it couldn't have been. It was highly unlikely. Besides, the girl from last night was not nearly as gorgeous. So plain, so simple. But the eyes. That's what gave her away. Still not convinced, he looked away. And what if it had been her? If it was, he already knew that there was a manhunt being conducted at that very moment. They had probably been tracking his every move, made a few visits, and no doubt every clerk and store owner had provided a vivid description.

_"Yeah, he was here! Kinda tall, real scrawny fella. Crazy bushy hair."_

They had probably gathered enough information to have him as good as caught. Not even giving the cab a second to stop in front of him, he gathered his mountain of stuff and shoved it into the passenger's seat before following.

"Drive. I'll let you know where."

* * *

The rain ambushed her, a lion guised in lamb-like showers. Without being so kind as to warn her with a rumble of thunder or a flash of lightening, the sky ripped open and unleashed its watery fury upon the earth below. Now she found herself racing back into the one place she should not have. Taking cover in the lounge at the other side of the boat, Fuu huddled, sopping wet and wretched. She couldn't be here. This time she might not be so lucky. Unfortunately, time was not on her side.

There was frantic stirring outside. Staying deathly still, Fuu lay beneath the coffee table and listened. The footsteps were not very heavy, and she almost began to think this was a different person. Crawling closer, she peered around the corner of the doorway; it was him. But there was something…wait.

Her hands trembling with anger, Fuu knelt there, seething as she watched him tote several large shopping bags inside. He had even ditched his rags from the night before and was sporting a rather costly new look.

"You _bastard_!"

Without thinking, she charged straight for him. He was not going to do this to her, he simply was not. Even if she ended up battered and tossed into a ditch, her pride refused to be wounded.

With all the ease of a Jiujitsu sensei, Mugen stepped aside and out of her line of attack. He was neither amused nor impressed.

"You know, you really have to do something about this whole breaking-into-property-that's-not-yours thing…it's getting old pretty quick."

He assumed a cocky stance, wearing a mocking smirk on his face.

"You should talk, you conniving son of a bitch! You _dare_ spend _my_ money? Do you know what I can do to you? Do you have any ide-"

A flat, rough hand clamped over her mouth. He dragged her close, restraining her.

"Now now, let's not underestimate the opposition. You're not the only one who can do something to someone."

Wriggling from his hand's grip, she snapped,

"You better not touch me! If my manager finds out, he'll have you on the first bus to the penitentiary tomorrow morning!"

At this he laughed. Shutting the door, he released her.

"Don't flatter yourself baby, I like my women with a little more meat on their bones."

She stood there in silence for a long time, shivering as she watched him saunter in and out of rooms, storing the contents of the fat bags he carried.

"You could at least spare a shirt considering I'm the one that paid for them" she snorted.

"Oh you did? That's funny, 'cuz as I remember it all your little plastic buddies had a dude's name printed on them…but here ya go" he said, tossing a black T-shirt several sizes too large into her face.

Unwrapping the thing from around her head, Fuu could feel her blood begin to boil. She was doomed to spend the night on a filthy, booze-reeking boat with an equally foul lowlife who had not only brutalized and robbed her the previous night, but was bound to cause her even more grief later.

As she stomped up the stairs to the second floor, he called after her,

"They're lookin' for you, by the way. Your man's been calling nonstop."

A new wave of worry washing over her, she pressed on. She would set him straight in the morning.

* * *

**Chapter Notes**

xxxx

**"-kun": **a Japanese honorific suffix used when someone is speaker to one younger than themselves; usually applies to boys and young men

**"-san": **a Japanese honorific suffix used to show respect much how English speakers use "Mr.", "Mrs." and so forth


	8. Under The Radar

**Chapter 7- Under The Radar**

**X X X X **

The questions running through his mind were as numerous and flying as the drops of rain outside, stabbing into the soggy ground like millions of heavenly spears. The seventy-two hour mark was approaching, and still no one could glean any valuable information from what little the local sheriff's office had gathered. The only lead they had thus far was the unusually careless amount of spending that had been done within a fairly short window of time. To Jin, it was difficult to imagine Fuu running away just to go on a crackpot shopping spree. So now, one of two possibilities existed: either she had left by her own will or whoever held her captive was incredibly stupid. Either way, those cards were likely their only hope of ever recovering her.

* * *

The snoring was nerve-grinding. How such a pile of skin and bones could ever make so much noise, she would never know. And the clincher was, he was still downstairs. Water sloshed fiercely outside and the crash of thunder wasn't helping matters.

_What did I get myself into?_

Right now, being swaddled in silk sheets and bathed in luxury didn't seem like such a bad thing. Not even controlling, overprotective Jin seemed as bad. But there was nothing that could be done. All of her most important possessions, including the phone, were being held hostage by the nameless slumbering pig downstairs.

As the violence outside subsided for a moment, Fuu sat up. If she was lucky, he had at least left the phone lying around somewhere. Then she would call Jin and explain everything.

Picking her way through dark proved quite a challenge. With so much motion, she could barely make it down the stairs without nearly falling on her face or stubbing a toe. Clinging for dear life to the banister, she tried to adjust her eyes to the low light. When at last she was able to move without the risk of being knocked around, she quickly moved in.

Rather than wasting precious time searching for him, she focused on the snoring and followed its direction-which, she soon realized, was no easy task when it sounded like it was echoing from all corners.

Thankfully, the floors were easier to navigate now that the piles of garbage had miraculously disappeared. Either the boat's constant shifting had swept them aside or the guy was not a complete lost cause when it came to cleanliness.

_Please don't let him catch me..._

Estimating that she was nearing her quarry, Fuu walked carefully. One wrong move and she was toast. Tiptoeing closer to the source of the ungodly sound, she stopped dead in her tracks as he rolled over, facing her now. Standing paralyzed with fear, she waited. There was no glint or shimmer indicating his eyes were open. Taking a few more moments to regain composure, she knelt close to the floor, feeling around quietly for anything that remotely felt like a phone or wallet. Once or twice during her search, he would stir or mutter something incoherent, startling her.

_Come on, come on…_

Praying that he didn't have these things on his person, Fuu crawled around to his other side, where a massive storage shelf stood like a great black sentry, watching her every move. As the minutes passed, she became more desperate. Sweeping her hands along the floors and tables, she had almost thrown her hands up in frustration when she saw it. A tiny orange dot of light in the dark, flashing like a beacon. Recognizing this as the phone's message indicator, her heart fluttered with relief as she rose to retrieve it.

Just as quickly as her hopes had soared though, they came crashing back down. Along with several tons of sporting equipment. With a squeal and a swoon, the girl hit the floor with a shuddering thud coupled with an enormous crash of fishing poles and hunting gear.

Like a wind, Mugen was on his feet and ready to roll.

"Who's there? I'll whip your ass so bad your-"

He was interrupted by a tiny sob of pain.

Almost disappointed, he scoffed.

"Ah…it's just you. Damn, you just can't keep your nose out of trouble for one second, can ya?"

Plopping back to the floor, he nestled himself among his treasures and lulled back to sleep.

"You can't just leave me here, you insensitive jerk! Help me!"

"Well, I didn't ask you to go play Mission Impossible, now did I? Not my problem."

The wind whistled ferociously and an explosion of thunder hurled down more torrents of rain. Struggling among the tangle of string, bait, and miscellaneous heavy objects, Fuu wiggled and kicked.

"Come on, I think I'm bleeding here!"

Eyes closed and legs propped up on a nearby chair, he cooed nonchalantly,

"Bring a tampon next time."

Feeling the breath being crushed out of her, her final attempt at freedom became a series of grunts, growls, and curses. Surrendering to defeat, she let her head drop onto her free arm. She couldn't believe he would allow something like this.

A silence, unbroken by any snoring on his part, ensued. She knew he was still awake. He had to be. The taste of salt seeped into the crease of her closed lips and she could feel warm blood trickling along her cheek.

"Tell you what, you let me keep the dough, I'll help you out."

He was actually blackmailing her! Now it was fact: he was the lowest, dirtiest, most uncouth scum to walk the face of the Earth.

"No deal!"

"Hey, fine by me. Now I just keep the money anyway, ditch you like a slab a' meat, and go on my merry way as soon as the storm lets up. Your choice. Either way, you lose."

The pain was becoming intolerable. But she refused to let him win this.

"I hope they toss your sorry ass in prison and never let you see the light of day, you miserable…"

"Keep talkin'. You're just wasting precious oxygen."

This would continue for a while longer. Eventually, even he was surprised at how long she could last literally under pressure. A slight twinge of something similar to concern rose in him. She had been completely silent for the past half hour, and if he had allowed her to die, he was in deep, serious shit.

Pawing through the mess, Mugen searched frantically, seeing that quite a load of stuff had toppled onto her. She was far too small to handle that kind of weight.

"Aw come on, you can't possibly be that weak!" he grumbled as he grasped both arms and dragged her out. Taking a glance beyond the mess, he noticed the giant shelf, empty save for a box or two of tools.

Kneeling beside her, he watched like a child unsure of how to save his toy airplane from sinking into the river. From what he could tell, she wasn't breathing.

As she lay there, still and silent, he could only sit. Alarm, something he had not known in ages, was slowly growing within him. A fuzzy memory of a visit to the doctor suddenly sprang to mind, and he recalled watching in awe as paramedics were steady at work with a little girl who had stopped breathing during an examination. What did they call that again? CPR or something? Inexperienced as he was, it was worth a shot.

Tentatively, he hovered over her. Leaning closer, he hoped perhaps she would gasp for air or at least breathe normally. This was definitely was something he was neither prepared for nor wiling to do. Taking one last look at her as the lightening cast light upon her pallid little face, he dove in. Pinching her nose and forcing her mouth open, he sloppily clasped her lips in his own and blew. Unfortunately, she had already been semiconscious by the time he did this and she choked with disgust. Slapping frantically, Fuu shoved him away, wiping her mouth as if she had been violated in the most unthinkable way.

"You sick, perverted idiot! You had to wait 'til I was out cold before you got down to business, is that it? I hope you kept that dirty tongue to yourself!"

Wiping his own mouth, he scowled at her before getting up to flip the lights on. The room was instantly bathed in a soft glow that flowed like water from the floor surrounding the little kitchen in the next area.

"Seems like the only idiot here is you. I'm not the one with a nice pretty gash on my forehead."

She felt for the wound and winced as her fingers found the tender, open flesh.

The turmoil outside had at last grown silent, and the heavy downpour thinned into a modest drizzle.

Sending deadly glares his way, she marched over to where her phone lay on the desk across from them. Maybe Jin was trying to reach her again. Now she could finally get out of here and-

She gaped in horror as the screen flashed its urgent message: low battery. How was that possible if she rarely even used it?

Brandishing the thing threateningly, she barked,

"What were you doing with my phone?"

Busy studying a crinkled paper in his hand, he responded curtly,

"Nice games."

Things seemed to be getting better and better for her. Now, not only was she stranded, battered and without money, but at the mercy of the very person who had gotten her in this mess in the first place. Or worsened it, rather.

"How can you be so-"

"Selfish?" he finished for her. She stared hard, but remained silent.

"I'll tell you how" he said, folding the paper up again and tucking it away into the safety of his baggy new jeans.

Walking towards her menacingly, he didn't stop until he was about an inch from her face. She backed into the wall of the lounge, heart pounding again.

"It's spoiled little bitches like you that get all the glory in this life. Your fancy cars, your punk-ass little Chihuahuas, your maids and butlers at your every beck and call. And then you grow up and breed more little bitches and bastards that grow up livin' the good life, crushing all the poor folks their parents had to step on to get what they have. And you turn around and call _me_ selfish?"

Stepping away as if his disgust was with her alone, he sniffed, but not from the slightest onset of tears. She could see the anger painting his face. She had never seen such a thing in anyone before. Somewhere hidden away in the pitchest point of his eyes, she was certain she saw what could only be described as a noxious blend of deep-seated hatred and a hint of sadness. So faint. Whispers of a past she wasn't sure she wanted to know.


	9. Migration Sensation

**Chapter 8- Migration Sensation**

**X X X X**

"Wait!"

For some reason, he was expecting that word to come popping out of her mouth at any moment. It was both amusing and a pity how predictable she was after so short a time. With a roll of the eyes, he walked on, not bothering to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging the request.

"Listen!"

The sound of her high-pitched jabbering gradually receded into the background. Instead, he chose to focus on something more pleasant like the blast of heavy metal that would, had it not been for her presence, normally have aggravated him as they crossed a traffic-gorged street. Taking a brief peek into the driver's seat proved to be a poor decision, causing the fellow behind the wheel to poke his head out the window and chide in a less than friendly manner,

"The fuck you starin' at, spic?"

Fuu didn't even get a chance to stop herself on time before crashing into Mugen, who appeared to have suddenly lost all ability to move.

"H-hey…are you alright?" she asked.

The lights were still shining their red faces at the growing line of drivers, and folks were trying to get a look at the man who seemed to be ruthlessly smashing someone's head into his own steering wheel way up front. But maybe they weren't seeing right.

Giving him one last slam for good measure, Mugen released his victim, who immediately shrank back in terror, not even attempting to defend himself. Wiping his bloodied hand on the hood of the car, he calmly returned to the curb, right on past a stunned Fuu. Apparently, it wasn't every day the girl got a taste of what raw masculine pride looked like.

Hurrying to catch up, she debated whether or not even being near this guy was a wise idea. Clearly, he was as fearless as he was brutal. A worthy ally to have on her side if the need should arise, but also quite the danger. Could she ever convince him to play bodyguard for the time being? She had already come to terms with the fact that whenever she would see Jin again, it wasn't going to be soon. She would need the protection one way or another.

"Hey! I have a proposal to make!" she called to him, much louder than she had intended. A few passerby glanced back at her, quizzical looks on their faces. Was anybody here capable of minding their own business?

Now she had his attention. When a world famous model wants to make a deal with you, you damn well better listen up. Without stopping but slowing the pace considerably, Mugen answered coolly,

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

Relieved, she strode beside him.

"I'm pretty much stranded at this point. I can't get back home, and I'm not able to reach my manager for now."

They turned a corner, passing a group of buskers trying to earn an honest buck for the day.

"Get to the point."

Sighing, she mustered up a little courage.

"Well, the point is, you need money. I need a bodyguard, or someone close to it, and from what I can see, you're the next best thing."

"Oh gee, aren't you afraid I'll try and get funny again? I mean, it's pretty hard keeping my hands offa _you_" he scoffed, sarcasm saturating every word.

Realizing her hands were unjustly tied, she bit her tongue.

"Look, take it or leave it. I don't have time to play games with someone who's too stubborn to know a good deal when he sees one."

Leaning his back abruptly against the wall of a deli, Mugen watched her, wearing a smirk the meaning of which she couldn't quite put her finger on. Beckoning her over with the wiggle of a finger, she stepped closer, wary but curious.

"There weren't any ATM cards in your little collection and I think we burned through all the cash. How you plan on payin' up?"

The question, straightforward as it was, made her uneasy.

"I have access to an account, so don't worry about it. Now are you in or not?"

Turning away for effect, he pretended to debate with himself all of the pros and cons that could possibly arise from such an arrangement.

"You know I have no problem roughin' you up if you bullshit me."

Somehow she partially doubted this threat, but she wasn't about to put it to the test either.

Crossing her arms indignantly, she tried mimicking the same devil-may-care aura he so naturally emitted.

"Don't measure me by the same ruler you measure yourself."

Fair enough.

Proceeding, Mugen strolled along the sidewalk, mulling over the offer. He wondered if she had taken the threat seriously or not. She had suddenly become a bit more difficult to read, which irked him. No matter which way the dice rolled, though, he was still holding all the cards. That's the only way he liked it.

"So where exactly are you heading, anyway? We've been walking forever."

She would receive her answer not in the form of words, but on the side of a steaming locomotive. Five minutes for departure to San Diego.

* * *

The enormity of a city had always seemed a rather trivial detail to him. Merely a vessel of business. Long ago had he lost the ability to notice or appreciate the greater things in life. The stars no longer captivated him, nor did questions concerning the origin of the wind or where the petals of his dear Sakura trees went when it carried them away. Those were times he sometimes wished he could have back, even for a moment's time.

The glass was cool and soothing upon his face as he gazed absently upon the world below. So many places she could be. So many awful possibilities. Scenarios he had tortured himself with time and time again these past few days, silent horror films that flashed on and off in his mind. Still, he would let them do their job. He could never lose faith in the prowess of the American law force. After all, had it not provided him and his family with a chance to prosper? And was he not prospering now? Even now, when the most valued asset he had was drifting far away to a place he could not reach?

But the very fact of her absence was not the only thing that troubled him. He truly and woefully missed the girl. Despite the fact that she had been gone less than a week, not hearing the sound of her voice or seeing her face, grouchy as it often was, was beginning to take an unexpected toll on him. Now this sudden turn of events had unearthed emotions he never thought existed. And every one of them ached for her. Very little succeeded in disturbing the man's equilibrium, so smoothly and so efficiently did he operate that it was his very essence. It wasn't like him to feel this way, it wasn't like him to behave so immodestly...so foolishly.

Putting the thoughts to rest for the moment, he turned to ones bearing regret instead. How she had moved through her life this long without so much as a hint about the truth behind everything. Behind him. Now all those times she had complained and protested came crashing down on him.

"_I'm nothing but a cash cow to you, aren't I? None of you people see anything but what you can get out of me and the others. My dad would've actually taken care of me."_

_If only she knew_, he thought. If only she knew that this was all for her own well being. For the honor of her father. It was his chagrin how she could never look beyond what was in front of her. She was so…superficial.

Reading over the documents and letters in his hand once more, it was decided. Her father's seal and signature were explicitly inked onto the crisp white papers. If she was recovered, he would never again allow such a thing to happen. He would make everything up to her. He would let his true intentions for her be known. Whether she liked it or not.


	10. Too Far, Too Soon

**Chapter 9- Too Far, Too Soon**

**X X X X **

Even as she watched his hand slip into his pocket and emerge with several crisp bills, she could say nothing.

_He was planning this from the start_, she thought in brooding silence as he returned to the seat beside her. She was sure that if given the choice, he would never have willingly sat near her. There was some inexplicable tension there, resentment almost.

She couldn't keep anything in her head straight. What was she doing? How had everything changed in the blink of an eye? More importantly, she wondered what would happen next. What may or may not happen tomorrow. Where tomorrow would lead her.

His presence made her edgy. She found herself severely questioning whether or not she had made a grave mistake. In fact, she was certain of it. The way he hunched over when he sat. Those little subtleties of his facial expressions that could never be wholly interpreted. But soon, feelings of worry and confusion gave way to something else as she allowed herself several brief glances at him: curiosity. Even as a young child, the girl never knew her limits; now was no exception.

"I didn't catch your name…" she said absentmindedly, eyeing the intriguing tattooing of his wrists.

Pulling the cap he wore over his eyes, she could feel him inch away from her almost undetectably. It was clear he was sensing her inquisitiveness getting the best of her and he didn't like it one bit.

Turning her attention to the scenery outside, Fuu decided not to push. Although she was in a probing mood now, there was no use beating a dead horse. Or a remarkably stubborn one for that matter. She smiled slightly as the sunlight poured in, a light unlike the harsh beams that plagued previous days. It was soft, gentle. Promising in some cryptic way she was content not understanding.

"Mugen."

It was spoken softly yet forever with a flair of bitterness.

Recognizing the name's distinct origin, she could not stop herself from turning to the man once more, this time to study him with more care.

"You sure don't look very Asian."

"Yeah well, my mom wasn't what most folks considered normal. Don't even know what the hell it's supposed to mean, anyway."

If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was people staring at him or asking too many questions, and although she had asked only one he knew there were many more on the way.

The monotonous rumble of steel against steel filled the silence between them. Somehow, she didn't want the trip to end too soon.

"Listen, let's just get somethin' straight right off the bat: I'm not your friend. I'm not your babysitter. From this point on it's strictly a business deal and nothin' more."

Those last words. Considering who they were coming from, they shouldn't have bothered her the way they did. It was so final, so absolute. And yet they did something to her inside. He didn't even ask for her own name.

"I'm Fuu," she ventured.

A brief grunt was her reply, less harsh than his typical mannerisms. Maybe it was nothing new to him. It was unlikely he had gone ignorant of her identity for very long.

Her attention eventually drifted back to the window, where at least she could find some meager scrap of joy. The sun and ocean would never ignore her, would never abandon her. Quickly becoming distracted by this view, she wouldn't feel his murky eyes on her as they watched from their corners, trying to make sense of the quirky talkative girl before them. She held the world in her hands, what could possibly be her problem?

"Does he beat on ya?"

The words made her jump inside. The question bore not the slightest hint of concern. He was staring straight ahead again, something she figured must be a habit of his whenever he was either tense or uncomfortable.

"That's not it…" she murmured quietly.

"Then what? You don't run from somethin' that's good for ya unless you're just plain stupid. Is that it?"

He chewed a fingernail, seemingly bent on removing something from under it.

"It doesn't matter, alright?"

They were slowing now, the squeal of the tracks growing louder with every passing second. As soon as some of the passengers began to exit, he stood up and weaseled his way into the nearest line.

"You're right, it doesn't" he shot back.

* * *

Whoever coined the term "ignorance is bliss" must not have known about the bright-eyed rich girl who barely knew which side of the planet she was on let alone her immediate surroundings. Although there was relatively little difference between this place and home, the feeling of entering unknown territory made her stomach turn.

"I hope you don't plan on making these little treks too often" she said as she handed over the key to his room. The flat slab of plastic dangling from the ring bore the number nineteen. She couldn't believe there were still places like that hadn't kept with the times and abandoned archaic security measures.

She trailed close behind as Mugen trudged down the dismal corridors. A strong odor of ammonia and other cleaning agents hung heavily in the chilly air. The dingy wallpaper, specked with stains and marks she preferred not to know the origins of, was peeling in some areas and moldy in others.

"We're gonna be here for a while, so better get used to it" he said flatly as he struggled to get the door open. She waited at the entrance as he flicked the light switch on and examined the pathetic hole in a wall that was his room. In his eyes, it was a haven. After several seconds of quiet admiration, he killed the light and let himself fall into the heavenly embrace of the mattress. That's what she thought it was supposed to resemble, at least.

"How long is a while?" she whined.

Rolling his back to her, he kicked his sandals off and sighed with irritation.

"However long I decide. How's that sound?"

Hardly surprised, Fuu slammed the door behind her and set off to locate her own room which, having gotten a preview of one already, she knew was bound to be just as revolting. She glanced at the key in her hand: room forty-four. Fourth and final floor. It looked like luck was really testing her this week. Even if he was a miserable bastard, she was none too thrilled about the idea of having to sleep so far from him.

Making her way up the last flight of stairs, she practically sprinted down a hall that seemed far too long. This floor gave her chills. It was quiet. Too quiet. At least downstairs she could hear the sound of an AC running or the occasional cough from an opposite room, but up here she would have been better off lodging at a morgue. Unlocking the door with urgency, she shuffled inside and shut it behind her, placing a barrier between herself and the invisible monster that stalked her.

Hours had passed before she had gathered enough bravery to even lie on the bed for fear of what unseen horrors lurked within it. The silence had long ago taken its toll and she found a little comfort in the drone of the television as its light flashed and created a host of shadow creatures along the walls. It made her think of those nights when she would come home from daycare after being picked up by her mother, yawning and drowsy from a long day's work. She always looked like she never slept and rarely had time to eat. The woman had little choice in the matter and worked so often because her husband was too fragile to do it himself.

A chubby critter of three, Fuu recalled the warmth of being wrapped in her mother's arms as she walked the few blocks home from the lot. She could still smell the scent of her signature perfume. Gardenia. Mom's flower was the gardenia and Daddy's favorite was the sunflower. She snickered softly to herself, remembering how the two would quarrel far into the night over who would be planting what in the garden. Now she was watching a ballet of shadows as they swayed across the ceiling and smiled sadly at how she used to wake her poor parents early almost every morning with her crying. She never did outgrow her babyish ways. She didn't bother to brush the tears away this time.

* * *

He read the directions carefully, trying to form a mental map. The nap had done him a world of good, and despite the fact that the damn mattress was so worn the springs jabbed at his ribs, he felt better than he had in years. San Diego nightlife felt somewhat different from that of old LA, and for a moment he could've sworn he was missing it. Of course, this wouldn't be a permanent thing. He'd return eventually. But this…this couldn't wait.

At this time in the morning, the place had to be open and brimming with the freaks. The ones who needed a place to congregate when the rest of the city was still tossing in its sleep. The types who ran with dangerous packs, conducting business in the darkest and bloodiest alleyways.

A golden moon burned in the starless sky, promising more rain. Far below, a seamless stretch of sparkling city lights competed with it. If his sense of direction was still sharp, he was almost there. If not, he could still enjoy the night and the sights and sounds it offered.

Somehow the walk prompted flashbacks of those times when he would sneak out at the stroke of midnight, bringing relief from the domain of his aunt. She had always made it a point to hit the sack promptly at eight, leaving him alone in the old monstrous house with only a sandwich and the TV as company. He still recalled the last show that was on the night he left for good, never to look back again.

The obnoxiously loud laughter of a passing couple drew his attention away from the flyer in his hand. Clad in black and spiked from head to toe, they seemed like just the kind of roughnecks you'd run into at a place like Nexus. The throb of the music was faint in the distance and they were inevitably making a beeline to its source, like moths toward the flame. Several more barflies were streaming in from across the street, some looking more or less conspicuous than others, but all headed to the same place and for the same thing.

Melting among them, he could feel his spirit begin to stir. Something soft and silent, like the flick of a butterfly's wing. They moved as one entity. A knowing smirk came to his lips as he made his way into the intoxicating din that was his true home, his only home. And if his gut feeling was right, he would find his brothers there, the familiar musk of whiskey and weed hovering around them. The life he thought was lost forever had come running back to greet him.


	11. Echoes of Yesteryear

**Chapter 10- Echoes of Yesteryear**

**X X X X **

She could only make it through the first few digits before eventually hanging up again. It would make the second week tomorrow, and each setting sun took with it the motivation of returning. She wondered what it was that made that burning orb rise day in and day out, not once wavering in strength. That was how she longed to be: unshakable and certain. It was a given that she simply could not run for long, but she questioned whether she was running in the first place. Perhaps this was just a vacation, not for recreation or pleasure, but one in which she would regain something lost.

Five minutes to three, and she was as wide-awake as ever. Sitting up, she craned her neck slightly to peek outside and see what there was to see. Streetlamps dotted the sidewalks, some glowing like balls of ember and others long burnt out. Not a soul to be seen. Somehow, she had been hoping for more activity outside these walls. To know that people still existed, people who were uninhibited and able to walk the streets at all hours without fear and who answered to no one. She wanted to see some rebellion. The asphalt glistened from the remnants of a hardy drizzle, appearing like a strip of black velvet among scraps of worthless fabrics. She scoffed softly, wondering which pile she belonged to.

* * *

Crowds and noise have always been an inseparable combination, and in here, it was simply a law of nature. Just as he remembered it. Chugging down what was probably his sixth shot of the hardest stuff in the house, he tapped the glass impatiently, demanding yet another round. A hot puff of gray smoke clouded his vision as another serving of the intoxicating liquid was poured.

"Now I ain't gonna hafta have you carried outta here like a little bitch, am I?" a rasping voice, whittled away by years of heavy tobacco use, chuckled.

Mugen smirked, gulping the contents of his glass down greedily.

"No more of a bitch than the one you call your wife."

The two men had a good hard laugh at that one.

"Yeah well, she good for somethin'…" the older one winked, wiping down a series of used glasses he had just collected from a group of idiots who were already near blind from a vodka they had never heard of before today.

"So you managed to find that ad, eh? I knew you of all people would show back up here, man."

He took a long drag from the cigar poised between his fat fingers. "I dunno why the hell you left us in the first place, man."

Gritty was in love with that word. Every other sentence ended with his signature tagged on at the end. He never did shake loose the lingo of the old days.

Sidestepping the attempt at drawing out a reason for his desertion, Mugen diverted his attention briefly to the partially exposed assets of a passing waitress.

"I thought you might've renamed the place by now, Grit, it's too sophisticated."

A loud slam of a mug made Mugen jolt. He had offended the man, a former Black Panther still alive and kicking with the spirit of violence and uprising.

"And you sayin' I ain't? Now you all grown and bad that you come prancin' in here after all dem years to come and say some stupid shit like that?"

Yep, the same type of reaction that had earned him his moniker.

"Aw come on, you're way too damn sensitive for a guy with a rap sheet as long as yours."

"And you too damn loose wit your tongue, boy. I told you 'bout that, didn't I? You remember how bad you got your ass torn up for sayin' the wrong thing to Samson."

He had to fight back the creeping haze those many drinks were causing right now. It was several long, agonizing minutes before the image of that old beating came to him. He grinned wickedly.

"Yeah, what ever happened to that old pussy?"

He wouldn't receive a response for a while. There was a lot of tinkling of glass and ringing of the cash register before the man behind the counter decided to speak up.

"Been pushin' daisies for a good four years now" he said, not bothering to look Mugen in the eye.

The news should have come as a surprise, but he couldn't bring himself to feel much more than a passing moment of disappointment as he emptied his glass.

"And everybody else?"

"Dammit I just opened back up, they probably not gonna be around for a while yet. Ain't spoke to none of 'em for a few months anyway so who the hell knows what they up to."

He paused and glanced back up at the dozing young man in front of him.

"Where you stayin' at, exactly?"

Blinking hard, Mugen muttered, "Some rat hole a few blocks down…"

"You ain't with no one else, is ya? 'Cuz you welcome to stay here."

The blood to his brain felt hotter than normal, the vessels constricting and throbbing with the venom he had been downing all morning long. He just realized how foggy everything was, even after Grit had put his damn cigar out. He felt his lips move, but he couldn't hear the words they produced.

"Some girl…what's her name…"

A pretty little face was smiling down at him, her eyes alight with joy. Joy to see him. She was lovely. Maybe he could just lay his head down for a moment; her arms were so welcoming.

"Yeah, a real angel…"

And all the light she brought him faded out. He could still hear the insanity surrounding him.

* * *

Either he was the heaviest sleeper alive or something was very wrong, because no amount of knocking seemed to elicit any kind of response from inside that room. Finally, it occurred to her that maybe he was just out, hopefully with the intention of bringing food back. But it was doubtful. Everything was doubtful about him.

Some of the other residents of the first floor were beginning their day early, it seemed. There was a lively melody of doors creaking, drawers opening and shutting, water running. But only unnatural silence hung beyond Mugen's door. No matter, though. He would have to either come out (if he was even there) or show back up eventually. He was not her responsibility.

Weak from having nothing to eat for so long, Fuu humbled herself enough to head outside in search of the nearest lunch truck which, from what she observed on their way here, the place was crawling with. It would be difficult having to settle for junk food, but now was no time for being choosy; her stomach was calling and hot dogs didn't seem so disgusting anymore.

Two whole days she waited. Worried. Then three. And on the fourth day, Fuu was feeling something new: fear. At first it was something insignificant like the anxiety often experienced before taking a weighty exam. But as the minutes grew into hour upon hour, day after day, it had become greater and not for herself, but for _him_. Why or how this could be was beyond her, but wherever that mindless thug was, he was causing her quite a bit of agitation.

"I'm not through with you just yet, jerk."

Unable to stay seated any longer, Fuu marched down to the front desk and demanded the key to room nineteen.

"And just who might you be, miss? That fellow specifically told me not to-"

"Yeah, well guess who's footing the bill?" she glared fiercely. She would not accept anything but that key in her hand. Tonight.

Silenced, but not entirely convinced, the receptionist searched the wall of tags behind her, muttering "nineteen" as she did so. When at last she located her quarry, she plucked it from its hook and turned back to the impatient girl.

"Now I better not hear about any mischief on your part, missy. You understand?"

"Yes, thank you" Fuu said, snatching the key from her and making a right into the eastern corridor. Slowing her pace as she counted to herself quietly, she eventually stopped in front of the door she sought. Hesitant at what she might find.

Before her own cowardice could stop her, she was already turning the knob. Already flinging the door open to find…nothing. Turning the sickly pale light on, her heart sank as she looked around; the sheets of the beat-up mattress lay crumpled exactly as he had left them four nights ago. A bowl of cereal, the milk now curdling and reeking, lay untouched on the TV stand. The obnoxious buzzing of some unseen insect was all there was to break the silence, harmonizing with the beating of the window fan that had been left running. Closing the door quietly behind her, she ventured in, stepping over a pile of the clothes and gadgets he had brought along with him. Relieving the exhausted fan of its duty, she caught sight of several scraps of paper scattered across the floor, some partially hidden beneath the bed, strewn just as carelessly as everything else here.

Her insatiable interest was piqued once more. Sitting herself down beside the bed, she propped her back up against the nightstand, shifting casually among the notes. A bizarre to-do list and a catalogue of names placated her somewhat but amplified her curiosity. On the back of the paper listing the names was an address. Some place called Château Nexus.

"Must be a whorehouse or something" she grunted, moving on to the next page.

On it, his hideous penmanship sloppily stated: _Gritty's boat, go back for other stuff next week._

Raising a brow at the peculiar name, she put two and two together.

_So he knew the person that yacht belonged to, then._

She wouldn't have time to study the final slip of paper before the sound of heavy footsteps came staggering down the hall. Stricken with panic, she knew who it could only be. Shoving the papers beneath the bed, Fuu dropped to the floor and peered nervously from beneath, just waiting for the door to come swinging open. Just waiting for him to find her there, nosing through his things. It was almost comical how often she had found herself in positions like these, frozen with fear.

The footsteps outside ceased, creating a thin shadow that crawled in beneath the crack of the door. A cough and that familiar sniff. The wretched creaking of someone entering made her sick. She could hear him comment about something regarding the lock, but his voice was…very different. It was lethargic, feeble, and bleak. What _happened_ during those days he had gone missing?

"Shit…I know yer here…sssstupid…bish…" he slurred. The tone was free from hostility, but it was heavy with _something_. She watched from where she was, his feet staggering and swaying. In a matter of seconds, he came crashing down to his knees and remained still. Darting up in place, Fuu too was on her knees now, watching and waiting for something to happen. Her heart was pounding as she listened to the sniffling. And this time, they did come with tears. Trembling now, he dropped to the floor, a pathetic whimpering dog.

"Mugen…?"

She could barely speak, feeling the same powerlessness she knew had brought him here. Even if he did smell heavily of pure alcohol and other barroom aromas, something in her heart knew this was real. That the only thing keeping what lay beneath that harsh mask he wore at bay was sobriety.

He did not move, even when he felt what he was certain were arms embracing. Hands lifting his filthy face up to a terrible light. The angel from that dream…she wasn't smiling this time.


	12. Silk and Sandpaper Don't Mix

**Chapter 11- Silk and Sandpaper Don't Mix**

**X X X X **

The woman at the front desk double-checked the filing cabinets and other areas she was responsible for before calling it a night. Highly efficient and punctual, she had to be sure the following shifts had everything ready and at their convenience. Bobbing her head and lip-syncing to what apparently was a classic Diana Ross track, she scanned the wall again. Number nineteen was still missing. She swore she had just seen the guy staying there come staggering in without even looking her way. Maybe that girl really did have permission to the room. And if that was the case, she sure didn't want to figure out what was going on in there right now. The shrill ring of the service bell cut through the cassette she was jamming to.

"Enjoying ourselves Grace?" a kindly younger man chimed, amused by his coworker's cheerful spirit even at this hour.

Slipping the headphones down around neck, she greeted him as she passed on by, fishing through her handbag for her keys.

"Now listen, there's these two kids staying here, kinda suspicious looking. You'll know 'em if you see 'em. So just keep an eye on 'em and keep me posted."

Knowing her to be a meddlesome creature by habit, the man decided not to even question the unusual request.

"Alright then, you have yourself a good night Grace" he said, making himself comfortable behind the desk as he flipped open the box of doughnuts the staff traditionally kept there for the night owls.

* * *

Was this wrong, somehow? That was the only question to be asked. Whether or not his mind had cleared up was a mystery. She had to assume not, because he had yet to move a muscle. It had taken longer than she expected for him to quiet down, though. Now she was feeling gradually more uncomfortable, not able to move because he would not allow her to. It was becoming tiring, having to keep her arms fixed this way at his shoulders as he lay hunched and unmoving. Yes, this one part of her was annoyed; it wanted to slap him back to reality. To shun him aside and tell him that whatever little emotional crises he was going through was not her problem.

"What happened to you? You want to tell me that much?" she asked coldly. She was trying so hard not to care. So very hard.

"They never came..."

He was speaking clearer now, softly, but clearly.

"Who didn't?"

That was the most she would manage to get out of him that night. After additional stretches of silence and stillness, she almost sighed with relief when he finally stirred. She was immediately disappointed when it was only a mere several inches down to her lap, where he took it upon himself to rest his muddled, heavy head. And there he remained for an even longer period of time. Faint meowing from somewhere across the street put the strangest, most awful idea into her head. She imagined that instead of holding some worthless human here, some mean, loathsome stranger, there was just a cat. Low, divine purring that could make her fall asleep if she listened long enough.

Her fingers took on wills of their own, seeking this imaginary fur. Slipping freely into the black mane that brushed along her thighs whenever he shifted. It was surprisingly soft to the touch.

"What are you doin'…?"

He wanted to sound tough. He wanted to be angry again, to fight. But these things were weakened with each day he had poisoned himself, drinking thoughtlessly like a bee addicted to its nectar. He wanted her to touch him.

She had never felt skin like this. Dry and so rough, but she would not move her hand away as his washed over it, making the contrast between silk and sandpaper even greater. Her skin against his face was like the finest linen. He recalled, something nearly surreal, the smell and feel of it from many, many days ago. A very modest gift his father had managed to send home back when things were still more or less salvageable. He bragged to people about the new son he would be coming home to soon. Maybe he was remembering from that far back, pulling back images from a time that was otherwise lost.

Knowing well that this too would melt away from him if he did not act quickly, he brought the coolness of her sweet little fingers to his lips. If he could have nothing else in the world, he wanted to say he knew what heaven felt like. What it smelled like and tasted like.

But she balked. This was never supposed to happen, and it wouldn't. He had no place in her life. None of this meant anything. He was for another time, another place, and another person. He was nothing to her.

"You stink" she said, moving away.

"No I don't" he cooed softly, planting the slightest wisp of a kiss on her wrist.

"The shower's right over there, might want to try it out" she said, nudging her head to the direction of the bathroom. She didn't give a damn if his feelings got hurt, assuming he had any.

He became still once more. Her hands dropped with a soft thump to the floor as he released them. Picking himself up to the best of his ability, he balanced himself with his hands. She couldn't make out the silhouette of his face as his head hung low, refusing to look at her.

"And the door is right over there…" he sneered.

Even long after she was gone and cozy in her bed, dreaming dreams and slaying thoughts of him, he would not give her the satisfaction of cleaning up. He would sleep well and deeply, but he would not do something he was told to do.

* * *

The ones he had once called his brothers never did make their appearance. There were only hours of wasted time sitting and waiting, sitting and hoping. Eventually the drinks didn't taste so good. The scene of the place he adored so much was rapidly falling apart, the few pieces of a puzzle whose image he had yet to complete.

"Heh…sorry, man. I know you was lookin' to see 'em again." The voice was not that of an old, familiar friend. It was inexplicably artificial, insincere.

"Best I can do is let 'em know you stopped by, if they ever show up. I assume you ain't got no means of com-"

"I told you no, goddamn it."

Mugen's eyes shifted up slightly, watching for a reaction. There was none, at least none that could facilitate remorse.

Staring down into the ripples of the liquid he drank listlessly, the dusky illumination from above danced and refracted in his glass. So there was nothing for him here, then. And even if they had reunited, what good would that do? He hadn't considered the possibility that he would not be as well received the second time around.

"Any more and you'll put us in a drought, boy" Gritty remarked, possibly annoyed, but Mugen couldn't tell and couldn't care less at this point.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he rose. The place had quickly lost all of the wonder it had previously held, a feeling not unlike what the young virgin experiences after her knight in shining armor melts away to reveal nothing more than the scum beneath. Now he had neither the desire to remain here nor to return to where he came from.

The man behind the counter leaned over, smacking his lips to get every last ounce of flavor from the stuff he so habitually inhaled.

"You know, you ain't changed much from the last time I saw ya. Still skinny and ugly as ever" he said, only half laughing. The grin gradually faded from his face as his humor was met with only grim quiet. Gritty shook his head and flagged Mugen with a massive hand as he put yet another cigar out in the ashtray.

"Ah, you know what…go on and get outta here. And take your fleas witcha."

The words hit him and fell away, leaving one more scar to deal with later when time would leave him no other choice.

* * *

The sun stained the sky richly, leaving streaks of scarlet and rose in the inky wake of its ascent. Neither the seabirds nor the works of human hands obscured this scene for her and the thought of this radiance, with all its warmth and grace, enveloping her and melding with her was an appealing one.

"So did you find what you were looking for?" she asked, elevating her voice enough so that it rose above the growing noise of traffic. The streetlamps had at last concluded their nightly duty before the heavy morning mass of toxin pumps on wheels began lining up once more.

As of yet, she still had no idea why he decided to leave the motel without so much as a word. If it hadn't been for her persistent nature, she would have been quite the abandonee. Now it was just a matter of getting him to talk.

"Listen, I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing but I'm getting fed up with your…" she struggled to find the word, sitting at the tip of her tongue but refusing to make itself heard.

His eyes were closed, the back of his head resting against the wall behind them.

"Don't even talk, broad. If you really wanted to get back to wherever the hell it is you came from you woulda been there by now. Just leave me alone."

Without allowing herself to think better of it, she retorted quickly,

"And if you really wanted to be rid of me you would've found a way by now. How about you let go of some of that pride and admit it: you _need_ me."

Only then did her conscience dictate to her that she should've held her tongue. A small part of her wanted to rile him up though, and this fact soon reaffirmed her reasoning.

But when those black eyes shot open and she saw the expression on his face, she regretted not possessing a greater measure of self-control.

"You must be fuckin' _kidding_ me. I need you? I need _you_?"

He stood up, frantically searching his pockets now.

"Wh-what are you doing, Mugen?"

He chuckled bitterly, muttering to himself as his hands paused to retrieve what they were feeling for.

"Where the hell were you all those goddamn times I spent freezin' my ass off when there wasn't a place to stay for the night?" he seethed, chucking the cards at her one by one.

"Where were you all those times I almost got my throat slit over a fuckin' bag of someone else's leftovers?"

She sat there, eyes wide in disbelief. But he wasn't quite finished yet.

Holding up a fresh bill to her face, he knelt before her, lowering his voice gradually, speaking to her as if she were mentally challenged.

"See this here? You know how many years I survived without seeing one'a these babies? And you're gonna turn around and tell me _I_ need _you? _You wouldn't last one fuckin' day in these shoes, little girl. Not one."

Crumpling the rest of the money in his tightly clenched fist, he hurled it to her feet. Another pair was standing beside her, the man they belonged to wiping gore from his hands onto the apron he wore.

"What's going on out here, eh? This jackass harassing you, sweetheart?"

Mustering up the energy to speak, she uttered a coarse "no" and looked back up to the fiery being hovering over her.

"Fella, I suggest you back off before things get more complicated than they need to be, you know?" the man warned, glancing down at a shaken Fuu.

Mugen responded with a defiant laugh.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about complicated you blubbering sack a' horseshit."

Paying her one last gaze, Mugen left, taking with him the tempest guiding his steps.


	13. You're On Your Own Now: Part I

**Chapter 12- You're On Your Own Now: Part I**

**X X X X **

"_Of all the species to find its way in the wide open spaces of the Earth, only man has proved to be both heroically victorious and hopelessly defeated. Much of his successes come at their own hurtful costs, and he never seems quite able grasp the fantasy of what it means to be content. He has sought coin, jewel, and every sort of treasure but ultimately none can afford this priceless thing."_

_~Seizo Kasumi, father of Fuu Kasumi_

_

* * *

_

She began learning the hard way that the green fountain can quickly run dry. The day finally came when all her hopes would be held in the eyes of one George Washington. The president never seemed so cruel to her as he did today, solemnly gazing back at her from the little frame someone drew up for him centuries earlier. Try as she did, the funds didn't even see the dawn of a new month. She was broke, plain and simple.

Trying to calculate exactly where all the money had gone was about as futile as trying to recall the company's contact information. Shame and fright had prevented her from doing a lot now that she was completely on her own without a guiding hand. Even the libraries were a source of dread and intimidation and it all hit her in the form of a shyness that became increasingly debilitating. Who knew how many attempts she had made to reach out for help only to shrink back again? She couldn't talk to people, couldn't find the words to convey her situation well enough. Becoming just another run-of-the-mill runaway was no path for her, either. And besides, how bad was the situation really? This is what she would repeat to herself each time reality tore down the fanciful veil she placed over it.

Folding the bill with the utmost care, Fuu considered the wisest way to invest it. A meal? A phone call? Neither would make a dent in the predicament. She would still need to eat another day and weave paths through all sorts of numbers and locations just to try and reach Jin one last time. At times, the worst part was not so much that she was in the mess, but how quickly it had all spiraled far out of control. In the end, she couldn't point the finger to anyone but herself and the delusions immaturity and inexperience had conned her with.

And the cops? More than once they had been the most logical option, but she didn't want to be put through the grief of the interrogations and examinations almost certain to result. Her knowledge of the law did not extend any further than the fundamental concept of locking the bad guys up and issuing parking tickets. She wanted to flee from attention and would avoid it as aggressively as possible, especially from the wrong sources. She wore her hair loose and instantly much of that alluring charm so distinctive of the Fuu the world knew had vanished. The rich complexion of her cheeks was duller, her gloss-parched lips seemed thinner and far less desirable. Walking among common citizens was no longer a task requiring skill and stealth: she could've passed a group of her most devout worshipers and no one would've taken a second look.

At length, grazing the strips of cafes and bakeries that outlined town was what hunger compelled her to do. Tomorrow was not today, and she needed food today. Another reality soon made itself known: there isn't a lot you can do with only four quarters to your name.

"I want the cheapest thing you have please", she managed.

The owner smiled and shook her head to herself as she paced to the kitchen and back again, her ebony skin shining with sweat and dappled with patches of meringue powder. That smile didn't register as a friendly one as far as Fuu was concerned.

"Ma'am? I said I-"

"Child, you see me tied up here, I ain't got time for another sob story lookin' for handouts."

She disappeared into the back and didn't emerge again.

Scenarios like this, to her surprise, became more common as she visited other locations, some containing harsher souls than the one before it. Even Singh's Pastry Jungle, a tiny store proudly announcing its grand opening with banners shouting cheesy advertisements, was way beyond her means. After the fourth rejection, she was convinced kindness was something only storytellers could invent. She exited the final store, the bells of the door jingling their mockery as she left. Scenes of that scraggly good-for-nothing crept into her thoughts. She imagined all the years spent toiling, rummaging. She wasn't even getting a taste of what the real world really was and already she had hit a brick wall.

Something dark stepped into her peripheral vision as she scanned the signs of each street above her. Reacting purely on unguarded emotion she eagerly faced the figure approaching.

"Mu-" Her voice fell heavily, her excitement along with it.

The man in fact was so unlike the dirty vagabond that the two could never have been mistaken for one another. He was unlikely to win anyone over with his good looks and there was an almost facile quality to his pleasantness.

Backing off cordially, the man smiled.

"Well I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you, miss."

Leaving was her first instinct, but between safety and persistent hunger, it was no contest: she'd take bread from Jack the Ripper if he offered it.

"Now don't get the wrong impression here, but I did notice you're having a little trouble. Is it alright if I ask what's wrong?"

"You've been watching me?" she questioned anxiously.

"Not watching, no. Maybe you didn't see me sitting there in that crabby old couple's tea shop a little while back?"

The expression on the girl's face told him she was drawing a blank.

"You know, the one where you…nevermind. It's really not my place, anyhow. Really sorry to bother you, miss." Nodding to take his leave, he picked at the bus tokens sliding around on the lid of his drink.

"Hey, hold on. Uh…no, you're not being rude. Actually…actually I guess I do need a little help." She could've kicked herself for the nervous crack of her voice at the end and prayed she wasn't heading into another ditch.

Flicking strands of blonde hair from his eyes, he sipped delicately at the cup, gesturing to her that his ride was coming.

"Okay then, thanks anyway mister..." She didn't bother trying to hide the disappointment as the bus rolled up.

"Nah, I can cover your fare. It might be in your favor to hear me out, who knows?"

* * *

An interesting pattern develops in the media when it comes to breaking news or the front page, and it was beginning to rake at the patience of one very brooding individual. Involving the voracious heathen that was this country's very life force was the worst decision he had made to date. Tabloids wreaked havoc and the tongues were wagging: it was probably all just the beginning of one big publicity stunt, they were saying. The police were a sham. Rather than bringing them closer to answers, the system he had once regarded with such reverence were no more competent than a crowd of toddlers would be performing Shakespeare. They were not intelligent human beings but dogs who seemed more equipped to go in circles chasing their own tails than making progress. Such were the conclusions he had come to as he watched Fuu steadily take a backseat to more lucrative topics.

"You people…" Jin murmured to no one in particular, folding the magazine up.

"You miserable, miserable people."

He stood alone on the jetty, mists of the surf moistening the exposed skin of his torso as chilly winds toyed with what he wore like a flirtatious young lady. Water held every secret and disclosed so very few. With a swift thrust of the wrist, he cast God, Darwin, AIDS, and the UN out to an ocean that might care more than he could.

* * *

It turned out that Blondie did have something to say, and she wasn't going for it.

"I get that kind of reaction all the time, trust me. It's perfectly fine if it isn't your idea of easy money but it's safe, trust me."

Fuu took a cautious look around, but the majority of the passengers were too occupied breaking every bus regulation to be interested in what she and the latte-sipping white guy were discussing.

"Trust you? I hardly know you."

"Vic. The name is Vic" he replied brusquely, glossing over his vexation with a gentle smile and quickly adding in a low voice, "It's the cleanest thing you'll do out here without becoming the next STD statistic, putting it bluntly."

She was now down to two options, and the cops were looking beautiful. She didn't respond.

"You take care of yourself, okay? God knows this is no world for a woman to walk alone in."

She didn't know how he did it, but he did. That one sentence was all it took.

"I…where did you say your friends lived again?"


	14. You're On Your Own Now: Part II

**A/N: **So this chapter has been bothering me for a while. A long while, in fact. I've been trying to figure out exactly what makes it suck so much, and I finally realized that it was the OCs (at least partially). Their names, in particular. I decided to swap the female OC in this chapter with Sara (from the series) to balance things out just a bit, though I doubt that will reduce the suckage by much and I don't think it's safe to try redoing this and the final parts of Chpt. 12 because it'll just ruin things down the line. So, cringe as I might while reading this portion, it's best to just leave it be and do my best with the remainder of the story. I also tried seeing if I could exchange the other OCs in this chapter with actual characters from the show, but the lack of name versatility made this option unfavorable. Hope I didn't further screw things up! And just to point out, I've given Sara the gift of sight :D

* * *

**Chapter 13- You're On Your Own Now: Part II**

**X X X X**

He led her through the obstacle course that made up the front lawn of the one-story flat that looked like someone had dropped it there simply for the sake of filling the last usable space on the block. The grass itself was surprisingly well kept despite the many bizarre twisted metal sculptures, scraps, and other artsy materials that littered it.

"So what is all that stuff?" Fuu inquired as the man simply known as Vic struggled to get the front door open.

"For the love of- Sara!" he yelled into the empty maw of the house as he burst in.

"What's it gonna take for somebody to call the friggin' locksmith, huh? It's been weeks, people!"

Dishes clattered in the kitchen beyond the living room and feet shuffled erratically in the upstairs hall. A pleasant female voice, which to Fuu seemed to carry a kind of maternal lilt to it, called from above,

"I said I'd get on it when I had _time. _And what's wrong with your hands, anyway? Can't you pick up the phone and make the call yourself? Why should I always get stuck with-"

The voice hushed suddenly as the woman apparently tried to hop into a pair of pants that might have been too tight. Before she had arrived, Fuu was worried sick that she might be living exclusively among male strangers, so the presence of another woman was slightly comforting if nothing else.

Vic turned to her with a modest grin.

"Well, mi casa es su casa…or, technically _our_ casa even though some people _obviously_ have no clue what cooperation means!" he shouted the last few words loudly as he faced the stairway again.

A plumpish woman descended, sweeping up her messy auburn hair into an equally messy bun that seemed to cling to the back of her head like a separate organism altogether. She was attractive, and could have been quite beautiful if her face showed more life.

Upon spotting Fuu, she paused at the foot of the stairs, her hand resting upon the railing.

"Oh, um…"

"This is Fuu, she'll be keeping us company for a little while", Vic quickly declared.

The woman scoffed a bit, not so much sarcastically as amused.

"We've got plenty already" she said, her tone indicating both exhaustion and just a hint genuine irritation. The gladness her voice had previously given Fuu was rapidly deteriorating; she could tell she was not very welcome by the resident Alpha female.

She stood where she was, sheepishly observing her new environment while Vic ambled over to the homemade coffee table that made up one of the few furnishings to be found in the living room. There was a brief silence as he casually reviewed the mail and, finding nothing addressed to him, tossed the stack back onto the table.

"Where's your brother?" he asked the woman.

With a tiny yawn, she pointed in the direction of the kitchen and decided to seat herself on the steps as he deftly made his way across the cluttered patch of floor that blocked the kitchen entrance. A grimy blanket covered with several cans of paint and more metal scraps had been inconveniently placed there.

"So," the woman spoke with half-shut eyes, "what brings you here?"

Hardly up to the challenge of explaining the details leading up to now, Fuu came up with the simplest lie she could slap together without arousing suspicion.

"I got sick of being bossed around so I left." Not a total lie, at least.

"Yeah the folks are always a drag until it hits you one day when you've got nobody else that they were probably right all along." She combed loose wisps of hair back with her fingers and rubbed her cheeks with frustration.

"Been trying to get that kid to sleep since last night."

"Kid?"

The lady smiled and let out a little laugh that made Fuu feel stupid.

"Thanks for the compliment sweetie, I was hoping _somebody_ wouldn't notice."

The girl blinked. "Notice what?"

"Well, the baby weight. I mean look at me, I don't exactly fit the description of a runway model right now."

Fuu cringed at the word.

"Oh…" she managed, quickly adding with a smile, "But that's never a permanent thing, I'm sure you'll be back to your old self in no time." She wondered how successful she was being at pretending to be cheerful when it was the last emotion in her heart.

"My old self wasn't any more spectacular but don't tell Victor that, he won't hear it."

A piercing shriek shot through the hallway, sending the tired-faced woman instantly scurrying back to where she came from, hissing through clenched teeth as she flew off to tend to her wailing child.

Vic entered the room once again, this time followed by an older, heavier guy who didn't quite look like he was working with a full deck.

"This one's not that pretty Victor. Where did you get her?"

Ignoring his brother-in-law's graceless remark, Vic approached Fuu with his usual sweet simper. Fuu, however, couldn't return the kindness.

"What does he mean by 'this one'?"

Pausing and obviously thinking of an appropriate answer, he gently ushered her into the living room and sat her down on the rickety couch that looked like many, many behinds had seated themselves on it in the past.

"Alright Fuu, let me ask you something. Do you know what escorting is?"

She knew she had either heard or read the word at some point, but she couldn't honestly say she knew what it meant in "business" terms.

"Not really…I mean, I know what it means, but…something tells me you have a different definition for me."

The man chuckled softly to himself.

"Smart girl. It's not every day you find a pretty face with a brain to boot."

Fuu allowed her eyes to wander from Vic to the fat guy who was now occupying himself with picking what was probably a scab or sore on his arm. The words he had spoken only moments earlier were echoing in her mind now, and she had no idea why the opinion of a slob like this should matter to her.

"Anyway. My wife and I have been out of work for several months now and we decided to start taking girls like yourself in to generate some income. Temporarily of course, until they get themselves back up on their feet. Basically we find some lonely rich guy who needs a date and is willing to pay for one and set him up with one of our girls. Of course, there's no sex involved or anything indecent like that and the men are well aware of the rules. Just keep a guy some company for a few hours and call it a day. You think that's something you might be interested in?"

She didn't care that he had made it a point to explain the absence of sexual favors as part of the job. The very last thing she wanted to do was expose herself to more danger and something was telling her that although Vic and his wife seemed like nice people, there was something amiss with this whole thing. Even so, she was miles from Jin and probably Mugen by now and she had not a penny to fall back on. And there was _no_ way she was about to find herself in a shelter or one of those places for troubled teens.

At last she found her voice.

"Well, maybe. I guess…"

"You guess? I don't want you doing anything you're not comfortable with, Fuu."

All of the things that could possibly go wrong raced through her mind. What if she ended up going out with a complete psycho? What if the men got bored with her? What if, what if, what if.

"No, I'll try it. Just teach me what to do."

That old smile came to his face again and she tried to stop herself from questioning what was behind it. All she wanted was at least some degree of stability back and currently this looked like the only option.

"How old are you, Fuu?"

"I'm turning eighteen this fall" she quickly lied. She couldn't risk telling him she was in fact two years younger and lose this opportunity if it turned out she wasn't the proper age.

Vic studied her face and lifted her arms up slightly, examining her as if really seeing her for the first time.

"That's good…but you look a lot younger. We're going to have to fix that. Sara can work with you since I'm, you know, a dude. I'm far from an expert on fashion."

He laughed quietly to himself as he said this, then called his wife downstairs to give her his instructions.

The woman emerged from the unknown depths of the upper floor, in her arms a squirmy infant who she would easily have dropped if she wasn't careful. Vic stood and took the baby from her, rocking and bouncing it up and down in his arms with clumsy affection. He explained that Fuu had agreed to work for them for a while and the adjustments to her appearance that would be necessary to avoid creating needless suspicions (or perversions) in potential clients.

"Oh that's not going to be a problem. Come with me, honey. We'll spruce you right up."

The kindness had returned to the woman's haggard face and she motioned for Fuu to follow her upstairs.

* * *

While Fuu was learning the ropes of dating strange men, Mugen had all but forgotten about her and the events of the past few weeks. He was very good at forgetting things when it suited him, but he knew that certain memories were never far from rearing their ugly heads at the worst of times. At the moment, though, he was focusing his attention on other things. His immediate goal was to return to all of the items he had left behind at Gritty's boat during the brief trip he had taken to store them there. He hated the thought of leaving them to rot; it was one thing to be a bum and another to continue looking like one when there was recourse. Had life dealt him a different hand, he would probably have turned out just as vain as that brat. And there was her face, popping up in his thoughts when she was the very last thing he wanted on his mind.

Maybe she really wasn't as stuck up as he accused her of being. After all, she was still pretty young and probably had no choice in the lifestyle she was living. Even so, it was his turn to be selfish. It was his turn to enjoy some aspect of his life, and he didn't even know how long that would last at this rate. Like many entrenched in the clutches of a rut, he had contemplated offing himself on more than one occasion. He just couldn't understand what the point of it all was, whether or not one had wealth. What did wealth bring, in the end? Material possessions? Casual one-night stands with people who couldn't even be bothered to learn your name in the process? He didn't even see the purpose of charitable efforts, because when everything is all said and done, the only thing you have to look forward to is a box and a stone with your name on it if you're lucky.

Despite the periodic fancy of ending it all, he never seemed able to go through with it. The reason why was beyond him. He had neither the interest in or the skills to land even a minimum wage job and was getting by on what few odd tasks came his way. Sometimes the idea of washing another car window or pulling weeds up for some snobby upper-class family made him sick. Even if he didn't have a pot to piss in, he always had his pride. And even that wasn't getting him very far.

He grumbled moodily as he exited the crowded hash house he had been waiting in for eons. It was a wonder chickens hadn't gone extinct at the rate these places were filling up. He had bought enough food to feed a small family using the last few scraps of change he had left over from his outburst with Fuu. At least there was a small fridge to store leftovers that might last for the next few days back at the boat. He would probably have to hitch a ride back since there was nothing left for bus fare or a cab. He planted himself on the nearest bench and promptly stuffed his face, all the while wondering how he was getting back home.

* * *

It was not for a good three weeks or so until Fuu had gotten the hang of carrying herself with a certain maturity and grace characteristic of the most seasoned geisha. Modeling had taught her much about the complex laws of conducting oneself as a lady, but she never realized how much work it actually was to keep this up for longer than a few photo shoots.

Fuu sat at Sara's vanity table and admired herself. All trace of childishness in her face had been perfectly masked by the veneer of an older young woman. She could easily have been mistaken for being in her early twenties now, with her sophisticated new bob, rich red lipstick, and jewelry that accented her better features. An elegantly cut evening gown that was slightly big on her draped her thin frame. Although it wasn't too much a stretch from what she was accustomed to dressing in, she couldn't help but fall in love with feeling more grownup. She had even gotten through two nights already with a couple of Sara's family's acquaintances. The first man was fairly handsome but had to be at least in his early forties. First he took her to an overly theatrical stage production of some Russian novel she couldn't begin to pronounce. She resigned to enjoying the spectacular dinner that followed while only barely pretending to listen to his excited gibberish about a new species of snake that was recently discovered in South America. The second man, who reminded her of a cross between a bulldog and an elf, was younger but far more drab. His idea of a night out consisted of nothing more than trotting around an art gallery and making bland comments about the equally bland contents of the rooms. She failed to see how scribbles that looked like a drunken spin top had drawn them could be considered art.

Tonight was to be her third job. Her earlier fears were beginning to settle down as her confidence grew. They had already earned around $1200 between the two previous clients, not including the bonus the first man threw in for her. Fuu quickly added a few finishing touches to her makeup and turned to Sara, who was just coming in from the baby's room.

"Hey there, how's that dress holding up? Not too big on you I hope. Let me take a look."

The woman fidgeted with Fuu's outfit for a few minutes, adjusting this and tucking in that.

"Now this one is supposed to work for a pretty swanky company somewhere in LA. I think it's a photography agency, I'm not sure. Either way, he sounds like someone who will pay a good sum to have a pretty girl on his arm for that shindig the mayor's having down at Harrah's tonight."

When she finished with Fuu, she stared at herself glumly in the mirror. She briefly looked down at the girl and then back at her own reflection.

"Hmm…what motherhood will do to ya, huh?" she said in a low, almost defeated tone.

Feeling sorry for the woman, Fuu took her hand and gave it a comforting pat. Beyond that, she just wasn't sure what to say. Sara smiled at this warmly and Fuu was sure she had genuinely made her feel better, if only for the moment.

It wasn't for another hour until Fuu's date would arrive exactly at 7:00 pm. Such precise punctuality surprised her. Reviewing herself in the mirror one last time, she snatched up the little sequined clutch purse Sara had lent her and made off.

The air tonight was refreshingly cool and carried with it the scents of ocean mist, beach barbecues and other lovely things. Somehow just this simple pleasure alone had put her in an unusually buoyant mood. She approached the slick BMW parked outside with gusto as the driver leaned across the passenger's seat to open the door for her. Upon settling inside, she was greeted with a pleasant smile and a kiss to her hand. Although it was apparent the guy was going to try too hard to be a gentleman the rest of the night, he seemed harmless enough and she allowed herself the luxury of relaxing a little as they cruised away.

"So, what's a sexy little thing like you doing dating complete strangers for money?" the man asked, but quickly recognized his stupidity and added "Well, I mean among the many things sexy people do for money."

Had it not been for that last remark, Fuu would probably just be focusing on what an ass he was beginning to make of himself.

"Well, that's a bit of a long story. Let's just leave it at me being resourceful."

They took a left at the light and stopped to wait in traffic for a while. From the looks of things, it was almost certain that most if not all of these people were heading to the same event they were.

"Well it looks like we have some time to kill to hear that long story of yours" he said, turning to her expectantly.

Fuu winced and looked away, trying to find anything that could steer the conversation elsewhere. Meanwhile, she was completely oblivious to the person watching her intently from across the street.

Several long weeks had passed since he last saw her, and Mugen seemed unable to tear his gaze from the girl riding shotgun in the lustrous vehicle not even thirty feet away. She looked considerably older but this did nothing to detract from her beauty. In fact, it only enhanced it.

"The hell is she doing?" he muttered, watching the two pull further up as traffic finally started moving again. If she had not been as dolled up as she was, he would have simply assumed that someone she knew, a bodyguard perhaps, had finally located her and was driving her back home to safety. But his curiosity was quickly getting the better of him and he wasn't in that much of a hurry to make the long journey back to the yacht any time soon now that he thought about it.

* * *

It felt like they were never going to get there. In an effort to ease some of the tension that had built up after his last attempt to make conversation, the man switched the radio on.

"Any requests?" he asked, hoping he could glean at least that much out of her.

Just for fun, she asked him to find a nice classical station. In truth, she was not much a fan for music predating the current century, but she felt like seeing what his reaction would be on a whim.

As expected, he gawked at her with confusion.

"Ooookay, classical it is then."

She snickered to herself, combing her fingers through her hair to tame a wayward strand. As she did this, though, something around her wrist caught his attention.

"Wait a minute…"

He grabbed her arm firmly and inspected the silver bracelet that hung loosely near her hand. It was certainly not costume jewelry and his eyes widened when he caught sight of the distinctive plum-shaped charm that shone brightly from it.

He took a long hard look at her now.

"What?" Fuu demanded, slinking back.

"You're an Ume girl! Only they wear these bracelets…holy shit! You're Fuu!"

Suddenly the man looked as if God Himself had given him an epiphany.

Fuu was speechless. A string of mixed emotions hit her with all the force of a tidal wave. She would finally be home again, among familiar surroundings again. Sara and her husband flashed before her eyes for a split second and she wondered if they would worry when she didn't return that night. She would probably never hear the end of Jin's admonitions. She could finally sleep in her own bed and be surrounded by her own belongings again. But most of all, she would never see Mugen again. For some bizarre reason, her heart sank at this realization and all other thoughts came to a halt. She couldn't hear the man chattering excitedly on his phone asking to be transferred to Jin's office immediately. She didn't take any notice at all when the car took a sharp detour in the direction opposite of the casino. The only thing she realized was that the closest thing she had to a friend would be permanently swept away from her. She rested her head against the cold glass of the window and watched the city lights reflected in her side mirror disappear into the dark as she rolled further and further away from them.


	15. The Serpent Strikes

**Chapter 14- The Serpent Strikes**

**X X X X**

The past two months had changed a lot. The opulence of the magnificently built Ume HQ seemed to fill Fuu with more dread for a moment than relief. Reflecting back on some of the last few words Mugen had spoken to her, she finally faced the truth: she could have come back had she truly wanted to. She knew deep down that all the while she was only scrounging for excuses and relying on ignorance that wasn't entirely there. It was true that in many ways she was helpless, but she wasn't stupid. Now, as she slowly followed her ex-date into the enormous building, her insides swirled with anxiety. How would Jin greet her after all this? Were things permanently altered now that she was no longer the same person she was before taking that first step out on her own? There was no point speculating, though. Whatever was going to happen would happen regardless of what she hoped or thought. She stood in place very stiffly as they waited for number fifteen to light up as the elevator ascended.

* * *

Some poor woman miles away was probably lamenting the loss of her hot pink bicycle right now, regretting being in the wrong place at the wrong time to be the victim of a cruel thief. Mugen cursed under his breath bitterly, asking himself why it was he had just spent the past hour and a half peddling madly after some chick that didn't mean two shits to him. His leg muscles burned as he tossed the bike onto the pavement and stood to take in the monstrous structure that stretched into the sky above him. Just minutes earlier he had watched Fuu and the man with her emerge from the private lot situated underground and check in with security. That was going to be a problem, but he was always up for a good challenge.

* * *

They traversed the lengthy hall that would eventually lead to Jin's office. The walk might have gone a little smoother had the man not bombarded her with questions about her safety and how she managed to survive this long without anyone to watch over her. She shrugged and would say nothing until he finally gave up.

They passed the occasional employee, one (likely someone from Marketing who was squeezing in a few more hours of overtime) more interested in taking her dinner break than anything else and another who shot a few questioning glances at Fuu as he made his way down to the main lobby to punch out. It was another minute or two before they finally stopped in front of the office entrance.

"Okay hun, here we go" the man said sweetly, keying in the security code and opening the door to let her in.

She followed him inside halfheartedly and took a look around. The room was expansive and extravagantly decorated with all manner of historical Japanese artifacts and artwork. A stunning display of traditional samurai armor and weapons adorned every available surface and alcove, some safely concealed behind thick plexiglass walls. Others, such as the kodachi sitting upon its mount on Jin's desk, were readily available to admire firsthand. One of the only sources of light to be seen softly radiated from two of the largest exhibits, one featuring a breathtaking nobleman's kimono and the other an assortment of katana and other notable items. Fuu briefly delighted in the beauty of the kimono, whose rich blues, silvers, and indigoes were complemented by a spectacularly detailed phoenix and multiple koi posed on a backdrop of deep green pine branches and stately mountains. Something befitting royalty.

"Mr. Takeda…" the man spoke into the depths of the room.

Fuu suddenly remembered why she was here and snapped her head to the direction of his desk. It only just occurred to her that he was not sitting there at all but standing quietly at the balcony that overlooked the busy street below. Two large glass double doors leading outside splayed open behind him. He remained in place for a number of seconds before finally turning around and practically floating into the room. As he drew closer, Fuu stared incredulously at how sickly the man looked. The slender elegance of his body that was once a source of attraction was now one of pity. He was far from infirm in reality, and she knew this, but somehow his appearance disturbed her as he slowly approached.

"Thank you, Reginald. You may excuse us now," Jin said in a voice softer and even more monotonous than he was in the habit of using. His eyes had a certain blankness to them as he stared at her quietly. Neither of them said anything as Reginald exited and shut the door behind him. An electronic pair of beeps confirmed their isolation.

"You look well."

Unable to return the compliment, if that's what it was, Fuu replied mildly,

"Thanks."

He turned from her now, gliding to his desk and leaning over it to view something on the monitor of his computer. He closed his eyes and breathed in.

"You've disappointed me greatly, Fuu."

Regret crept upon her much the way spilled water crawls onto paper and ruins the ink upon it.

"I'm sorry, Jin."

"Yes, I thought you might be. But I imagine your little excursion brought with it a few experiences to make it worthwhile, didn't it?"

His voice was faintly tinted with resentment.

"I don't understand…" Fuu said, raising her brow quizzically.

"Hm…perhaps you'll understand this then."

Sliding one of the drawers of the desk open, Jin retrieved a neatly packed manila envelope and tossed it onto the desktop. He looked up at her, waiting for her to take it.

Reluctantly, she stepped forward and picked it up.

"Open it," he ordered.

Doing as she was told, she bent the metal fastener back and peered inside. Just a few sheets of paper, nothing more. She pulled them out and began reading. The first page was a long introductory piece riddled with legal jargon she would have needed an attorney to decipher for her. Upon flipping to the next page, though, her eyes immediately darted to the signature at the bottom. She recognized it as her father's. Her curiosity now tenfold, she went back to the preceding paragraphs, reading them carefully. Her mouth slowly gaped open and she looked at Jin in disbelief.

"I can't do this, I'm…I just can't. There's no way I-"

"You can and you will. Don't fool yourself for one second into thinking I don't have methods of ensuring those terms are enforced."

Fuu gulped hard. What was her father thinking?

"Jin, please. I can't marry you."

He strode up to her, slipping the papers from her fingers and returning them to the envelope. He looked at her.

"Why not? Because you don't love me?"

Fuu merely blinked at him, too shaken to make sense of the absurdity just spoken. Love him? Was he actually expecting her to feel anything more for him than a detached regard for an older brother? The girl barely _liked_ him enough to even tread close to the realm of love.

"Jin, I…this is too much for me right now. Let's discuss this later, okay?"

It wasn't okay, though. Not now and certainly not later on. She tried excusing herself to get some fresh air, but he had her by the arm faster than she could blink a second time.

"Let's discuss it now."

She strained against his force, but it was of little value; his grip was firm.

"Let go, Jin. Let me _go_."

Ignoring her, Jin dragged her to the meeting room adjoined to the one they were now leaving and shoved her down onto the long cherrywood table surrounded by numerous furnished seats.

Heart leaping into her throat, she lay still as he hovered over her, pinning her firmly with his body weight which, to her surprise, belied an outwardly gaunt appearance.

"I'm not going to continue tolerating your utter lack of respect for me, Fuu."

Overwhelmed with alarm, she managed to tear one hand free from his grasp and slapped him squarely across the face, leaving his glasses crooked upon the bridge of his nose.

Readjusting the spectacles to their proper place, Jin reached into the pocket of his perfectly pressed trousers to retrieve something and, upon seizing it, rested his hand on the table. The ominous knock of a heavy object hitting the surface made her still once more.

"Now let's try this one more time..." he said, reaching between her legs and slipping her panties off casually the way one might sweep a cobweb from the surface of a bookshelf.

Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision so that the only thing she could see clearly for the moment was the incredibly white light shining behind his head, radiating from the stylishly designed florescent lamp that stretched across each of the walls in a series of tubes shielded by plates of frosted glass. It was a trifling detail, but she tried with all her might to focus on it. To distract herself.

"Are you going to conduct yourself like a decent woman and comply? You won't make a fool of me twice, Fuu."

"Jin, what _happened _to you? How could you do this to me?" Fuu cried, clamping her legs shut to the best of her ability.

"Answer the question, please."

He forced her legs back open with ease, removing the underwear completely this time. Her body froze as she felt cold metal enter her.

"I should advise you that no one will hear if you decide to make a scene. These walls are quite soundproof."

* * *

Dispatching the security guard proved to be a far simpler matter than he had anticipated. At first, Mugen loitered about the sidewalk casually, all the while scheming exactly how he was going to lure the guy from his post. Not wanting to waste additional time, he decided to hatch up a crude plan and take a gamble on it. He had walked up to the guard, feigning concern over what he "thought" was a possible shady character making his way into the building through the rear entrance.

"I'm tellin' you man, the guy doesn't look right at all. C'mon, I'll show you which way he went" he said as he lead the way, hoping the man would be dumb enough to actually buy his bullshit and follow. For a minute it didn't seem like he was biting, but soon he was speaking into his headset and informing one of his buddies to keep an eye on the front while he checked on something suspicious.

Luring him well out of the sight of the security camera situated directly above the entrance, Mugen followed up with a few extra cockamamie details to pad up his story.

Examining the doorway, the guard said with a sarcastic curl of the lips,

"Sir, this entrance is impenetrable unless-"

He didn't have the opportunity to finish that sentence because a sharp blow to the back of his head like the shot of a cannonball knocked him out cold. Checking again for the camera, Mugen swiftly undressed the man, shed his own conspicuous garb, and wormed into his newfound disguise. He had seen the trick performed dozens of times in many a Saturday morning cartoon lineup to figure out how it all went down. That was the easy part; the mere fact it had actually worked was the irony.

He preened himself a bit and smoothed his hands over the material, a light sand-colored pinstripe suit that probably cost several hundred dollars. Almost a perfect fit. He adjusted the collar of the dress shirt beneath, the color of wine. Not bothering to tuck it in, he dragged the man further out of the camera's line of sight for good measure and hooked the headset around his ear.

Thankfully, no one bothered to acknowledge him as he made his way into the main lobby. A young woman sat sleepily at the front desk holding her head in one hand as she typed with her free one glumly and yapped into her own earpiece about how she had discovered through some social networking site that her fiancé had been two-timing her with another man.

Mugen rolled his eyes in disdain and snuck over to the directory taking up most of the space on a wall located not far from where the woman sat. Adorning the surface of every wall were photos of beautiful women wearing beautiful outfits doing beautiful things. The flags of seemingly every nation hung proudly beside each frame to indicate the subject's country of origin. The Brazilian chick was pretty damn hot and he would have gladly let his thoughts melt away into a steamy fantasy had she not been placed directly beside Fuu, who in direct contrast to the woman wore a sweet smile as she held a bowl of rice in one hand with chopsticks delicately poised midair in the other.

The sound of flowing water echoed throughout the grand space; a wondrous marble fountain carved into the likeness of a dragon sat as an impressive focal point to the entire room. Mugen could almost feel a twinge of intimidation as he glared into the dragon's watchful eyes, spouting water from its mouth as two long whiskers flowed from its snout.

He scanned the long list of departments and names, hands in pockets as he tapped his thigh impatiently.

One name eventually stood out to him. He recognized it immediately.

"Jin Takeda, President and CEO. Room 210, Floor 15."

* * *

They had gone back and forth like coy lovers playing a deadly game, Fuu pleading and weeping while Jin threatened to put a bullet in her in a most excruciating way.

She found herself almost wishing he would get it over with. Although in theory it was a rather simple matter to conform to a legal contract devised and signed by her own father, Fuu imagined the misery that would result from it. She knew her father had placed unquestionable trust in Jin and his family and sincerely had faith in his ability to care for her. She burned with anger when she thought of how devastated he would be if he could witness what was happening to her now.

"My father trusted you with everything he had. He treated you like a son!"

Jin seemed to genuinely ponder this before eventually replying.

"I loved your father, Fuu. But I think I love you more. So much, in fact, that I refuse to allow you to reject me a second time."

"When was the first? When did I _ever_ give you the impression that I was interested in you that way?"

She gasped in pain as he drove the pistol deeper. She heard the unmistakable click of the safety.

She screamed.

* * *

Mugen tried to keep a low profile as he sauntered through the corridors, passing a couple of men wearing similar uniform-slash-business suits whose faces were taut with concern. He would need to act quickly if they were going to search for their comrade.

He eyed the goldtone numbers fixed upon plates beside each door.

205…206…207…208…209…

210.

There was a numeric keypad next to this one.

"Shit."

Upon closer inspection, he realized that to the right of this keypad was a slot. Remembering the card he had yanked off the security guard just in case, he reached into his breast pocket and swiped it through.

A small light on the mechanical device lit green, and he tried the handle. It gave, and he quietly entered.

Taking in the scene that immediately greeted his eyes, he whistled.

"Practically a museum in here."

He looked left, right, and all around at the magnificent things there were to see. Guessing that this Jin guy must be done for the night, he relaxed a bit and explored at his own pace. It was peculiar to see someone so fascinated with his own culture, but with such a fine collection of weapons and other gear it was no wonder. Eventually his attention was drawn to one blade in particular that sat upon the great desk at the end of the room. He ran his fingers along the intricately carved hilt, perhaps of bone or ivory.

"Cool," he smiled.

His admiration was soon distracted by what appeared to be light glowing onto the desk from the computer monitor he had just taken notice of. For the heck of it, he navigated around the huge piece of furniture and took a look at the screen. Shaking the mouse slightly to disrupt the screen saver, he was presented with what appeared to be some sort of website.

"Us Weekly?" he read the homepage title aloud. Scrolling down a bit, he stepped back as if the mouse had suddenly caught fire.

There, plastered all over the page, were snapshots of him and Fuu.

"How in hell? Damn parasites" he growled, referring to the paparazzo who must've had a field day with his camera when he had captured the two together. When this occurred was anyone's guess. The accompanying article was bloated with typical garbage and gossip to satisfy the masses. Skipping the words and terms he didn't understand, he searched for anything specific that might become of particular concern.

He was stopped short by very faint thudding noises. Barely audible, he strained to hear and find out where they were coming from. They persisted, and something like a crash- also faint - could be heard. Deciding to investigate, Mugen abandoned the telltale screen and followed the sounds. They would stop and start up again erratically, but he eventually stopped at a closed door to the far right of the room and put his ear to it. He could hear a high-pitched voice, perhaps a woman's, but couldn't make out what was being said. Whoever it was sounded distressed. He remained there, doing nothing until he felt a hard bang against the side of his face. Something had hit the door.

Swinging it open, Mugen stood frozen at what he saw. There, huddled on the floor, was the girl. Her face was red and sweating, her hair was a mess, and splotches of blood stained her thighs.

"What the-"

Looking to the opposite side of the room, he caught sight of her attacker. The man appeared extremely calm and dignified, except he was pointing a gun directly at Mugen.

Immediately realizing what could have caused all this, Mugen backed out of the room slightly.

"Whoa man, it ain't like that. I never touched your girlfriend, okay? She was just followin' me around for a while, that's it."

"Get out," Jin said tranquilly.

Taking another look at Fuu, Mugen stepped back out into the office. Their gazes locked and he could see the hurt in her eyes. She may have annoyed the hell out of him before, but something about that hollow expression and the blood now staining the carpet beneath her made his heart swell with anger.

"What, you're too much of a punk-ass bitch to take me on man to man?" he hissed as Jin moved in, the pistol still braced to kill.

Jin scanned him from head to toe as if observing a specimen of the lowest class of organism, then turned to Fuu who watched from the other room.

"You left me for this?" he asked in what sounded like Japanese.

"Hey buddy, if you got shit to say, say it in ENGLISH."

Jin slowly faced him again, subdued detestation in his eyes.

"Piece of trash."

Although he had been called worse countless times before, the way this man uttered those words made his skin crawl. Without another thought, Mugen lunged.

Jin fired, missing by the breadth of a hair as Mugen tackled him to the floor, both fists colliding with his face relentlessly.

In the other room, Fuu struggled to stand. She couldn't let this happen.

Jin buried a knee into Mugen's abdomen, sending him reeling to the side. Getting back to his feet, he aimed once again, this time for a head shot. Forcing himself to recover, Mugen swiftly crashed a foot into his shin, making him stumble. He too regained his stance and slugged Jin again, knocking his glasses clear off. But even this didn't seem to hinder him. In fact, it didn't even seem to faze him. Without missing a beat, Jin delivered a succession of quick, precise blows to Mugen's body, finishing with a shattering kick to the ribs.

"Jin, NO!" Fuu screamed as she watched helplessly from the middle of the room.

Mugen lay still on the floor, shivering. He tried numbing himself to the searing pain that throbbed throughout his body with little success. Briefly turning his attention away from his opponent, Jin searched the floor for his glasses. Taking this opportunity, Fuu made a hobbled charge for him, managing to knock the gun out of his grip. She swiftly kicked it out onto the balcony, where it stood mere millimeters from falling down below. Furious, Jin backhanded her hard, knocking her down to the floor with no trouble at all. Dizzy, she remained down.

Determined to finish Mugen off, Jin returned to searching for the missing spectacles. Meanwhile, Mugen had somehow managed to struggle back to his feet. He shook weakly, knowing that if he suffered an attack like that again he'd be finished. Still, the anger that had sparked in him upon seeing Fuu battered had now grown steadily into rage. He funneled every past offense and foul experience into his core. The heat of this anger permeated him, giving him the last source of strength to continue. Like a typhoon he flew at Jin, mustering every ounce of power he had and focusing it solely on this one man whom he hated passionately despite having only just met him. It was as if they were born to abhor one another; this was thoroughly evident in each man's eyes and the reasons somehow didn't matter. It might have been destiny or just a very bad stroke of luck.

Anticipating his attack, Jin shoved him back forcefully and in one lightning-fast motion drew the blade that rested upon his desk as if placed there specifically for this occasion. Taking a sweeping slash for his throat, Jin dove forward. In response, Mugen threw his upper body back as if playing a lethal game of limbo, the razor sharp edge just barely nicking his chin. Relying on skills he had gained from every street fight staining his past, Mugen took advantage of a brief break in Jin's defense and executed a well-timed roundhouse kick to his head, somehow leaving the vertebrae of the man's neck intact; any normal person would have snapped like a celery stick. Temporarily weakened, Jin dropped to his knees, refusing to release the kodachi. Instead, he slashed savagely at Mugen's legs, attempting to sever arteries. He'd bleed the bastard out.

"Crazy fuck!" Mugen seethed, crashing his fist into Jin once more, sending the blade soaring across the room. At last he had a fair advantage. Without mercy, he pummeled him. Jin countered, blocking most of his blows but succumbing to a mind-numbing headbutt the force of which not even he could withstand.

Not willing to give him a moment's opening, Mugen continued, raining down punches and brutal kicks on the man's comparatively slighter frame. He was blinded, and as such would take no notice when he found himself out on the balcony, beating the living daylights out of the son of a bitch at his feet.

Despite the onslaught Jin managed to rise, attempting to grab him by the neck, but Mugen batted his hands away, instead wrapping his own hands around Jin's throat and squeezing until they were both down, thrashing like a mongoose and serpent battling to the death. It wasn't long before both men would resort to even baser tactics, one clawing viciously and the other employing the use teeth. But then, lying teasingly close to his hand, Jin spotted the pistol; one wrong move and it would be lost to the city beneath. He reached for it, but Mugen knocked it clear off the edge and slammed Jin's head roughly into the metal supporting them both. Panting and sweating profusely, Mugen finally relented. He had to check on Fuu. Standing up to leave, and making the mistake of assuming Jin was unconscious, Mugen turned to go back inside, aching with the need to collapse from exhaustion and pain.

Feeling a hand wrap tightly around his ankle, he stumbled. Jin was crouched down on his knees now, the blood that painted his face forming a revolting crust around his eye and mouth. Holding onto the metal bars that formed the barricade of the balcony, Jin stood, causing Mugen to trip onto his back. In his hand was another blade, much smaller but just as capable of dealing death as the previous one. He probably had had it stowed away on his person somewhere.

Raising his hand high to strike, Jin's face remained emotionless and Mugen, acting purely on raw instinct, planted both feet into Jin's torso with thundering force. Whipping back, he flew straight over the barricade. Mugen watched as the man tried to save himself by gripping one of the metal bars- anything protruding far enough to hold onto - but his hands, clammy as they were, failed him. He made one last attempt before disappearing completely.

Crawling to peer over the edge, Mugen thought perhaps he was still clinging onto a ledge somewhere below. But he watched as Jin fell, seeming to drift through the air with all the lightness of a feather. He didn't cry out, he didn't flail. He simply yielded to gravity as it pulled him far away from everything he had worked for. Jealousy was a force far more powerful than the one now humbling him, yet he was at the mercy of both now. He thought of Tanabata and the wish he had carefully written on a slip of paper to post amid the bamboo leaves, just one hopeful voice among the many attending that night. Some wished for a prosperous year in business, some for health and others for long life and grandsons. His was for _gi_, the virtue of rectitude. Perhaps this was his first and only lesson on the matter.

Mugen pulled back, preferring not to witness the impact.

The chaotic screech of tires sang into the night air as if desperately trying to avoid hitting something. People were screaming and shouting. He had no idea how he was making it out of this.

* * *

**Chapter Notes**

xxxx

**Tanabata: **a Japanese star festival that takes place on July 7th. People make wishes and hang them in bamboo which is later burned or floated down a river

**Gi**: one of the seven virtues of Bushido, the samurai code of honor

**Kodachi: **a Japanese short sword


	16. Cuttin' Loose

**Chapter 15- Cuttin' Loose**

**X X X X**

Her head felt heavy, as if someone had poured molten lead straight into it. Every sound was magnified to her ears, and she flinched as footsteps drew closer to where she lay.

"No…" she groaned softly.

Strong hands took hold of her, shaking her firmly.

"We need to go. Now."

Her eyes meet the thick soles of a pair of white new sneakers. Well, not completely white: blood marred the material in various sections like the macabre afterthought of a frustrated painter. Looking up, Fuu stared into Mugen's dark face. His expression worried her.

"Mugen…what…happened? Where is Jin…?"

"Forget it, we're getting the hell outta here."

Giving her no chance to protest, he scooped her up and began to remove the bloodied blazer he wore.

"What's happening?" she asked, steadily growing more concerned.

Without a word, he placed it around her and grabbed her by the shoulders, his face grim.

"Don't ask questions and don't make a sound, got it? No matter what you see or hear, don't say one damn word."

Immediately and without a moment's hesitation, he faced the desk and rummaged through it frantically, looking for everything and anything that could possibly assist their escape. Most of the drawers were locked, with the exception of one from which a set of keys dangled. Attached to this was a remote starter. Without thinking, Mugen snatched the keys up, took Fuu by the arm and pulled her to the entrance of the office. Opening the door enough to peer outside, he carefully observed the hall beyond. So far, there appeared to be no activity, but that could soon change. They would need to hurry to the elevator as quickly as possible.

Turning his head slightly, he asked,

"Can you walk?"

Thoroughly confused, Fuu blinked.

"Yeah, I think so…"

"Good. Let's go."

Leading her through the long stretch of hallway taxed his nerves greatly. He hadn't experienced panic like this in a long time and it was all he could do to keep his focus on finding a way out and not on the increasingly numbing pain that tore at his insides.

"Mugen what is going _on_? Why-"

His eyes shifted to her momentarily, and this was enough to avert further questions. If his memory was correct, the elevators would be just beyond the first left, right across from the restrooms. As they ran, the sound of an extra pair of feet joined their frenetic steps. Someone was coming from the opposite direction. Once again bracing himself for a fight, he shoved Fuu forward.

"Get yourself to the parking lot and wait for me there."

Stopping, Fuu looked back at him, fear etched into her face.

"But-"

"NOW GODDAMN IT!"

With an exasperated grunt she made her way further down, only to collide into the chest of a man twice her size. He wore the distinctive colors of security.

"What in God's name?" he exclaimed, not bothering to stop her as she dashed past him.

Before he could move another muscle, a fist rocketed into his jaw, practically dislocating it. He barely had time to look at his assailant before shrieking in agony: his knee had been completely kicked out of place. He dropped to the floor easily.

Mugen ransacked his pockets and swiped whatever could be found in them. Pausing to examine the rest of him, he stole the watch from his wrist, the gold chain tucked beneath his shirt that just barely glinted from around his neck, and what could have been an earring of jade or other precious stone. Storing these safely away, Mugen pressed on.

* * *

Fuu paced anxiously below, plagued by questions and terror. She had been expecting him to come flying through the elevator doors any second now, but a number of minutes ticked by with no sign of him.

There was a roar of activity somewhere above on the surface. The wail of police sirens and frightened voices drowned out her ability to think straight. She wished so badly to understand the events of tonight. Everything had turned so ugly so fast. She shuddered at the thought of Jin and what he had done to her. His eyes had never looked so callous before, so…void. These morbid thoughts would have to wait, though. The elevator opened with an abrupt ding and Mugen took hold of her, this time by the wrist.

"Show me where that guy parked his car at. You know this place better than I do."

"We should be on the right floor…this is where the executives park."

She turned to him then, eyes pleading.

"Please, tell me what happened to Jin first. Please."

Mugen gritted his teeth.

"Take me to the car."

With silent dejection, Fuu led him down the far end of the lot. At this time of night, there were very few vehicles to pick through. It took no longer than a minute to identify the silver Lexus parked several spaces down from the exit. Jin's name hovered imperially above the space.

Disabling the alarm system, Mugen hopped in as if he himself owned the vehicle. With some reluctance, Fuu followed, not even fully closing the door behind her before he slammed the key into the ignition and pulled out hastily. The way he maneuvered indicated to Fuu that he must have had plenty of experience behind the wheel, most likely not in a legal manner.

"See if you can find anything valuable lyin' around."

"No! I'm not doing one more thing until you tell me what just happened up there! Where is Jin?"

Mugen kept his eyes straight ahead, saying nothing for a few seconds.

"You know, I just saved your ass from Professor Hojo back there and you seem awfully worried about someone who looked more than happy to splatter your brains all over his pretty little office. The _least_ you could do is say 'thank you', bitch."

Fuu couldn't answer this. She could only look at him, only now processing how badly hurt he was. The entire right side of his face was swollen and beginning to bruise and his breathing contained a faint wheeze. Further down, the pants of both legs were soaked crimson, the flesh of one thigh slashed clean open.

Completely disregarding the security guard nodding off inside the kiosk, Mugen crashed right on through the lowered arm of the gate that was their last obstacle to reaching the outside world.

To their left, Fuu got a glimpse of the disorder taking place in the street. Several police cars circled the area, a pair of lieutenants managing the crowds of murmuring pedestrians. Heads poked out of condominiums and passerby on the sidewalks stopped to watch. An ambulance was parked askew further off, some paramedics carting something into it. She was unable to make out who was lying on the gurney because there was only the familiar chilling image of a body bag to be seen.

A horrible dread filled her, and she could hardly form the words.

"That's…"

She trailed off. Eventually the silence in the car was replaced by stifled sobs.

Mugen fought the faint urge to somehow console her. What could he tell her, that he was sorry for saving her life?

He stole several short glances at her from the corner of his eye, gradually feeling like shit as tears streamed down her face. He had seen many women cry before. Wasn't that what they did best? And yet, some small part of him wanted to pull her close and wipe every drop from her eyes. He knew he could never bring himself to tell her that things would be okay.

"Don't do that," he demanded instead.

As expected, she ignored the command, only weeping harder.

He wanted to take her away from all this, as if leaving her world behind could erase memories that would probably haunt her forever. Lord knows it hadn't done him any good. Things were going to get a lot harder from now on, and it was all thanks to the lost little stranger beside him.

He drove.

* * *

Time melted away. He didn't know how far they had gone or what was to come. All that mattered at this moment was that they were somewhere else. He didn't care where. He almost didn't care if the cops came after him, but what would the little moron do with no one at all to watch her? She may have done alright for a month or two, but he knew that this had been mostly a stroke of luck. There was no way she would last as long as he had. There was no way she could handle that kind of instability. He hated himself for getting involved. In fact, he almost regretted the very moment they had been inexplicably thrown into each other's paths. Now it seemed that there would be no way to untangle this mess. He was so very tired of messes.

He was also physically tired. He looked over to where Fuu sat. Apparently the girl had cried herself to sleep. Her face looked sticky and washed out. He took a glance at the time. A quarter to two. He wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer; his entire body begged for sleep.

He drove until he simply could no longer. Although he had not the slightest idea where they were, he appreciated the heavily wooded area spanning ahead of them. The only traffic he would need to worry about would be restricted to the road he was currently on, and from what he could tell, it was mostly a route taken by truckers and bikers who had better things to worry about. Of course there would be the constant threat of the law no matter what, but right now the only thing on his mind was closing his eyes.

He cut across the field to his right and parked far from the road's view. Giving the engine a rest after what had been many hours, Mugen leaned forward, folding his arms upon the steering wheel and resting his chin there. Although his need for rest was overwhelming, he was unable to do so. Instead, he stared ahead into the trees that stood everywhere, hiding their secrets and their shadows. The lively chorus of crickets that pervaded the area comforted him somewhat. He tried not to remember what a bad person he was.

* * *

Her empty stomach gurgled and bubbled, waking her from a troubled sleep. It might have been a whole day since she last saw something to eat. Shifting in place slightly, Fuu looked out of her window. Everything outside was motionless. The sky was slowly reviving with the light of early morning and crickets chirped. The scene resounded well with what she felt inside: hallowed out. She did what she could to push Jin's face from her mind and turned to her side. The man in the driver's seat sat hunched over the steering wheel, snoring quietly, his breath still laced with the wheeze from earlier.

She wanted to feel the utmost disgust towards him, but instead felt it for herself. He had moved her to pity once again. She wondered to herself how on Earth he had managed to find her in the first place and questioned what possessed him to do for her what he did. Or perhaps it hadn't been just for her sake. She couldn't place that kind of faith in him.

Although she didn't want to admit it, it was certain Jin had changed dramatically in the time she had been gone. It occurred to her now that all this time he had been steadily going mad inside. Bit by bit something had ebbed away at his sanity, and she actually felt a little guilty knowing that it was because of her. The guilt consumed her even more when she looked at Mugen. She took the chance of inching closer. Who was this man that no boundary could contain?

Her hand passed along his battered face with all the gentleness of a feather's touch. Licking her thumb, she cleaned the smudges of blood staining the skin around his eye and nose, hoping not to wake him in the process. That hope proved futile, though. He opened one eye.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

Blushing deeply, she moved away.

"Sorry, I just…"

He yawned, stretching a bit as he lay back against the seat. He looked at her sleepily.

"Come 'ere," he said sternly in a low voice.

Puzzled, Fuu scooted back over to him bashfully. What was it with this guy and these rapidly revolving moods?

"Well I ain't gonna bite or nothin'."

Although she didn't trust him to the extent she would have liked to, it would be nice to have another body to huddle up to for once. As if a chess player strategically planning her next move, Fuu inched closer until her head rested against his chest.

He winced and cursed loudly.

"Sorry!"

He glared irritably.

"Yeah, somethin' tells me I'm gonna be hearing that word a lot from now on."

He yanked her over, allowing her a nice comfy spot on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she finally whispered after some time had passed.


	17. Coincidence

**Chapter 16- Coincidence**

**X X X X**

Nature's lullaby, the soothing melody of crickets that had placed the two into a momentary sense of security the previous night, was now replaced by a number of birds who twittered and chirped to their little hearts' content. The cheer of these feathered vocalists only served to put Mugen in a foul mood. Now that he had finally overcome what remained of the pure adrenaline rush that had kept him going all these hours, that crippling pain seized him again. Luckily, the cut stinging his leg was not as serious as he first thought; it was deep enough, but still nothing more than a flesh wound. But taking in a good breath was no longer easy. They still had far to go, but he wasn't sure how far he would be able to take them in this condition. Hospitals were out of the question since it was certain their faces would gain recognition just as soon as law enforcement could establish a case. It was all shit from there.

He turned slightly to take a look at Fuu, who unsurprisingly was still sleeping. He couldn't exactly blame her, but something about the mere fact of her idling while he sat there suffering because of her pissed him off. His eyes lingered on her small presence, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the branches overhead creating beautiful shadowy patterns across her face. She seemed cocooned there, floating somewhere in her own little world, in her own time and space. He wished for just a moment that he could possess the ability to do this too, but it was probably just a girl thing. Girls had a way of making even the most mundane things seem special, sometimes without even realizing or intending to.

He shook her as carefully as he knew how, which by most women's standards translated into a force equivalent to a Super Bowl touchdown.

"We gotta get goin'."

Fuu awoke in a start, looking around in alarm.

Paying this no mind, Mugen swallowed, his head tilted back against the headrest behind him. He closed his eyes.

"I already know the answer to this, but can you drive?"

The girl rubbed her eyes groggily. The question took some moments to fully register. She hesitated.

"Well, I _did _read the first three chapters of a driver's manual I picked up at-"

"Yeah okay, that's a no then. Figures…"

He swallowed again, emitted a brief cough, and started the car. He looked even worse than the day before.

"Mugen…you're in pretty bad shape. Let's just find the nearest hospital so someone can take a look at you at least" Fuu said, her voice highlighted with concern.

He scoffed scornfully, backing out of the grassy spot leading into the woods they had spent the night parked at.

"You're about as smart as a box of pebbles, aren't you?" he said as they made it back onto the road, this time taking the Interstate 8. Thankfully traffic was thin.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm trying to be _nice_ to you, you lousy bastard!"

"I don't need nice. I need an extra brain around here that knows how to use just a little bit of common _sense_. Dunno if you were actually payin' attention back there, but this is not a road trip to fuckin' Disney World. We are in for a shitload of trouble if we show our faces pretty much anywhere there's a functioning satellite signal. So no, we can't drop by the nearest hospital."

Taking a break from the rant, he quite visibly strained to control his breathing, which up until now had remained fairly stable.

"I don't need no damn doctor anyway," he finally added.

Fuu clenched her fist tightly at her side, scrunching the sleeve of the cruddy blazer that blanketed half of her body. From that point on, she refused to look his way again for the duration of the drive.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to hide its face beyond the desolate cliffs that reached far out into the horizon before them. The deep, warm colors of evening coated the increasingly barren landscape all around, and still Fuu had not uttered one word. He liked it this way. It had been a while since he last had this much time to himself to think, and he did his best thinking with the window rolled down and the dry desert air tussling his untamed hair. This was all he needed: the sand, the wind, and the road. An especially memorable night of his younger days inevitably returned to the forefront of his thoughts now, and he could see their faces so clearly. Pick every last one of their voices out of the rowdy cacophony he had grown to love.

_He was either fifteen or sixteen at the time, he couldn't remember which. The guys had decided to take an impulsive ride down to Tijuana to enjoy a number of hedonistic delights that would have made his mother turn in her grave. The group in many respects operated like a wolf pack, Mugen the low-ranking pup. Still, they respected the kid's uncommon spunk and welcomed him in with open arms only a few years earlier._

"_The kid's gonna chauffeur our asses down to Mexico, how about that?" Mace crowed heartily to his buddies. _

_Although Mugen felt a sort of fraternal bond with all seven members of his adopted family, Mace had earned his admiration the most. And his trust. People back then had the tendency to attribute his namesake to the spray or club, but in reality he had simply dropped his first name._

"_The hell I am!" the boy snapped._

"_You say that now, but that's only cuz you haven't laid eyes on this sweet mamacita right over here," the red-haired man cooed, leading his young trainee around the perimeter of the chainlink fence that sheltered his most prized possession inside._

_Amid the mess of dead weeds, gravel, and busted tires sat a worn 1978 Pontiac Trans Am._

_Mugen grimaced at the ratty-looking thing, making it clear he did not regard the ancient relic of decades past with the same reverence his friend did._

"_It's an old piece of shit. It probably ain't takin' us two feet outta this lot let alone to Mexico" he said flatly._

_The man smacked the kid sharply upside the head._

"_You do not disrespect my Bird" he warned, fishing around in the pocket of the bomber jacket he never took off. Tossing the keys to him, Mace calmly opened the door to the driver's seat and gestured inside._

"_Drive."_

He never imagined the trip would become one long driving lesson, filled with frequent interludes of wild zigzagging, abrupt stops, and dizzying bursts of speed. It took longer than it should have to reach their destination, but no one really minded; it was more fun watching their lanky, middle-aged companion attempt to keep both himself and the screwy kid behind the wheel alive. The smallest hint of a smile crept to Mugen's lips as the roar of motorcycles and the smell of cheap beer flooded his senses. These are the things he wanted to remember. Likewise, he was happy to forget the day everything had changed and he was no longer one of their own. Gritty's words stung him for the second time:

"_I dunno why the hell you left us in the first place, man."_

For the first time, Mugen had the opportunity to let this sentence marinate in his mind. In fact, the question itself and all those that hung upon it. There would be no doubt within himself or anyone who knew him that he frequently struggled with the concept of morality let alone the practice of it. Somehow that never stopped the sickness that tore through him as he watched the descent of one of the only people who had been remotely close to him.

_The guy went by the name of Flats, the title conferred upon him for the fact that just about every time he took the wheel they ended up with a flat. He very rarely opened his mouth to speak save for the occasional grunt, mutter, or other primitive utterance that became the definition of his nature. It was also well known that he had an especially intimate relationship with heroin and was routinely observed shooting up in some lonely corner of wherever the group inhabited at the time. For the most part, Mugen kept his distance aside from the few times the man had invited him to join in. _

"_Yeah, I'll have to pass, old man. I got enough shit fuckin' with my head as it is" the teen would find himself saying every so often despite being dangerously close to temptation once._

_Aside from this, the man was a fairly innocuous presence. At least he was, until his supply ran completely out one cold night. Mugen recalled the disturbing shakes and jitters, the senseless mumblings, the frenzied pacing. The others had been out for most of the day and still hadn't returned by the time the sun had long disappeared. He watched quietly as the man tore through the place like a rabid animal, at first in the hopes of discovering some forgotten stash that might have been waiting for him and when none was found, any change that could be scraped together. At length he turned to him, grabbing hold of him desperately, practically embedding his fingers into Mugen's arms._

"_Ya got anything on you? Anything at all, just…g-give it to me", the man pleaded with wild and shining eyes._

"_No man, not a dime."_

"_SHIT!" he seethed, shoving Mugen aside as he paced around some more. Now his actions made him appear much like a mouse trapped in a box with no understanding of how to escape. _

_Escape he did, though. Without warning, he stormed outside into the streets, his hands twitching and fingers twisting into claws, eager to do something Mugen wasn't sure he wanted to witness. It was morbid curiosity with a hint of worry that gradually pushed him to follow. Because of the unseasonable chill, few people were out that night. Mugen kept a reasonable distance between them as he trailed behind the man who had evidently gone half insane within the span of several hours. He wondered if he had experienced such episodes in the past. _

_The businesses of the surrounding area were either closed or closing and scarcely any vehicles passed through this part of town to begin with, regardless of the time of day. Streetlamps dotted the sidewalks, the billboards high above cloaked in the shadows they cast. Frozen phony smiles peered from behind them. Somewhere not too far off, music was blasting from someone's apartment, watered down by the intense hush that encircled them. Mugen hung back, coming to a standstill as Flats finally stopped. A trolley was pulling up from the distance, its bright lights illuminating where Flats now stood. He immediately retreated into the dark as the last passengers for the night stepped off. The taller one, a well-dressed elderly woman, turned back to wave her friend the driver goodbye as she held the hand of a young girl. _

_Mugen crouched down behind the nearest parked vehicle, somewhat bothered that Flats had pulled back at the sight of the trolley. There he remained without moving a muscle, watching keenly as the woman and the girl began their walk home. The girl prattled to the woman with excitement, but he couldn't make out what she was saying from this distance. _

_The woman smiled warmly and just chuckled to herself, amused with the child's talkativeness. They passed a few row homes, making their way further from the trolley stop and approaching nearer to where he was concealed. From the looks of it, they lived alone together and seemed very close. The girl lovingly brushed her head against the old woman's arm as they walked._

"_So do you like your new purse, Elsa? I had it made just for you, you know."_

"_Yup! It's really beautiful, look how the beads sparkle!" the girl piped, admiring a small but colorful beaded purse that was slung around her shoulder. She couldn't have been more than nine or ten._

_Feeling bored, Mugen began to leave, figuring Flats was finding refuge in some bar by now. Instead, he ducked back down once more at the sight of the man, who was just now appearing from the dimmest corner of the block. Hands in his pockets, he briskly closed in on the two until he was close enough to swerve right in front of them, bringing them to a halt. Tapping the woman's arm forcefully with his knuckles, he said in a shaking voice,_

"_Lady, I need a few bucks."_

_The woman frowned, ushering the girl behind her slightly._

"_Sir, I'm afraid I haven't got anything, we just spent the last of our shopping money today and the banks-"_

"_No, no, BULLSHIT. That's bullshit!" Flats snarled, his other hand fidgeting in its pocket._

_Visibly startled, the woman gripped the girl's hand tighter and attempted to step around him, but he cut them off._

"_Grandma what's happening?" the girl asked, all trace of the carefree delight from earlier now gone._

_Flats looked down at her, madness dancing in his eyes._

"_I'll tell you what's happening: your grandma's being a stingy bitch."_

_With that, he withdrew something long and metallic from his pocket, the moonlight glinting off its silver edges. _

_Mugen's eyes grew wide from the scene now unfolding. His body tensed, his heart raced crazily from their panicked screams._

_The woman stepped in front of the girl entirely this time, pleading._

"_We really do have nothing, I swear. Please, if I had anything it would be yours. Please…" _

"_Don't you fucking lie to me!" he spat, swinging the knife at her._

"_She's not lying, so leave us alone! Please just go away…" the girl sobbed, her face partly buried into her grandmother's back._

_But none of it mattered. He snapped, and neither of them stood a chance as he slaughtered them like chickens right there on the sidewalk. Mugen well knew the meaning of helplessness. He had seen, experienced, and participated in a lot of bad things, but this was far beyond anything he could have prepared himself for. He stared on in astonishment as Flats scoured the corpses of his prey, cursing aloud, indeed finding nothing. Instead, he picked what few valuables he could pilfer and made off._

_Mugen stayed put, both paralyzed by the intense confusion and distress of doing nothing and the fear of police magically appearing. Naively, he hoped that somehow they would get up, that maybe they weren't so badly injured after all. He waited, his eyes never diverting from the two motionless figures. One of them produced bone chilling gurgles as the life drained out of her._

_To this day, there was no telling how long he knelt there, a whirlpool of thoughts pulling him in every direction yet keeping him stationary. Saying anything to Mace or the others would be useless; they either wouldn't care or wouldn't believe him. And tough as he was, he wasn't quite ready to meet the same fate as the unfortunate souls lying dead across the street. The best- no, the only- option was to go away. He remembered wanting to approach close enough to at least know who they were, so in at least one person's mind they would never float away. But he couldn't bring himself to see their faces._

Cool currents of a new wind glided along his face, snapping him out of the deep stupor he had fallen into. Fuu was still at his side, still miffed and bitchy as ever. Once again night fell upon them; this time it had sneaked up on silent feet. With tired eyes, Mugen read the dusty old sign as they rolled by:

_Welcome to Yuma_

* * *

The cabinets were practically bare, holding only a few jars of honey (some starting to crystallize), various containers of tealeaves, and several half-eaten boxes of cereal. The little fridge not even several feet away was empty as well, not including a tall glass pitcher filled to the brim with freshly chilled water.

The young woman sighed. She wished for the thousandth time that just once she could stop procrastinating. It was now exactly one minute to nine, hardly the time to shop for groceries, but it was between that or going hungry for the rest of the night, and that wouldn't do for a hypoglycemic.

Normally, she would make the 1 ½ mile trip by foot since she needed and enjoyed the exercise. This time, though, she would be risking the chance of passing out face first into the dirt, at night no less. Yawning a little, she gathered the tattered grey messenger bag she used every day since middle school and slung it over one shoulder and across her chest, double checking for the keys and other necessities she would need. Making her way outside, she stopped for a few seconds to breathe in the fresh air. Though she was born on and raised in this land her entire life, it never ceased to delight her with its natural blessings.

It was a fairly short walk around the back to where the horses rested in the humble little stable her father had helped her build not very long ago. She would have to take the unnamed male since the mare was about a month pregnant and required special care.

"Now I hope you can behave yourself this time," she said firmly to the animal as she patted his muzzle. Although she had selected him specifically for breeding, he proved to be difficult when it came to other matters.

As soon as they were set, she carefully directed him to town, not at all concerned that she was the only young person in the community whose primary mode of transportation was on horseback. While everyone else was cruising to and from school or the malls in shiny new cars, she stubbornly clung to antiquity. It saddened her at times how distanced her people were becoming from their ancestor's ways.

She was known for the tendency to space in and out of reality, often lapsing into long musings of why the world worked the way it did. It was for this and other reasons that she decided not to continue with college, even though her father, now retiring peacefully up north with her step mother, could have easily afforded it with the generous earnings from the family-owned casino that attracted great flocks of tourists every winter. She decided early on that she would be more than content living a solitary, down-to-earth existence breeding horses and enjoying whatever other pursuits that happened to strike her fancy.

She was not even a few minutes away from town when she abruptly halted, hearing what she was sure were the panicked cries of a young female. The area wasn't very well lit around this time save for the highway that split the reservation into halves, providing a constant source of light and noise that she was grateful to have isolated herself from.

"Please don't be dead, come on, get up!" the voice yelled.

"Hello?" the young woman called out to the voice, still scanning the area for its source.

Finally, she spotted it. About fifty feet or so away was a rather luxurious looking car parked crookedly just beyond the curb of the highway. The headlights beamed furiously ahead, making it impossible to see who was inside. Ushering the horse forward, she trotted up to the vehicle, which was still running and obviously not the victim of an accident.

"Hey, what happened here?" she asked, dismounting and hurrying over to the driver's side. Kneeling beside the open door was a girl, perhaps a few years her junior, completely disheveled. Without hesitation, she turned to her.

"Miss please, you have to help us, I think he's dying."


	18. Doesn't Ring a Bell

**Chapter 17- Doesn't Ring a Bell**

**X X X X**

It's funny how life has a habit of throwing curve balls when they are least expected. It had started out as a simple impromptu grocery trip. She didn't plan to discover a random car along the side of the road. She didn't plan to hoist a random bloodied man upon her horse. And she certainly never planned to have two complete strangers, serial killers for all she knew, in her home tonight. But regardless of how inconvenienced it left her, she could never turn away someone in need.

The disarrayed girl who was the man's companion fidgeted nervously, watching as quietly as she could while their offhand physician took a better look at him. He was still alive, but barely, it seemed. A disturbing rattle echoed from his chest each time he took a breath and one side of his face was the color of a ripe plum. His clothes were soiled with dried blood and sweat.

"I don't get it, he was driving fine before and all of a sudden he just…" Fuu spoke meekly. "Is he gonna die?"

The young woman shook her head, grabbing a pair of scissors from a tin can sitting on the kitchen counter that held numerous supplies and writing tools.

"That's hard to say right now, but he's far too frail to risk taking the trip to a hospital. The nearest one isn't for miles from here and I'm sure he won't make it like this."

As if she had done it a hundred times before, the woman cut his shirt cleanly in two, as if preparing to perform surgery.

Fuu gasped at the sight that lay beneath. His torso was a rainbow of bruises, some yellow, most reddish purple or black and blue. She looked on as the woman carefully listened to his breathing and felt his ribs gently; he recoiled in pain. After concluding her examination of his battered body, the woman got to work, fluttering around the small one story house to gather her arsenal of supplies.

"Thankfully his lungs haven't been punctured, but if that had been the case he wouldn't be here anyway. There's probably a fracture or two and definitely a pulmonary contusion."

Fuu watched the woman with wonder, but felt only partially relieved.

"Are you a doctor then?"

She wouldn't receive a response for a number of minutes. The stranger was already boiling water, gathering and mixing herbs, and collecting towels and other objects.

"No, far from it actually. But I learned a lot from my grandparents, who were very skillful healers. Our family has been growing and selling high quality herbs and remedies for many years. I can't tell you how many people we've helped in that time."

Fuu simply observed as the woman ground this or that into a powder or something else into a paste. It was as if she focused her entire attentive energy strictly on this one objective.

"There are a few cots I keep for guests stored in a little closet directly behind the bureau by the front door. Could I ask you to bring one to me?" she said to Fuu, still fixed on the tasks at hand.

Without wasting another moment, Fuu left to retrieve the cot, just now beginning to feel the throbbing pangs of her own injuries as she shuffled out of the kitchen. Taking advantage of the brief opportunity to look around, she almost pitied the young stranger. Her home was perhaps the most modest she had ever seen, with very little furniture, decorations, or personal belongings to be found. There was a small, old TV set sitting upon stacks of dictionaries and encyclopedias that were surely out of print by now. An assortment of dried plants and herbs hung in bushels from hooks fixed at the top of each window. As she approached the area leading to the front door, Fuu couldn't help but pause. There, placed directly above the entrance, was the embellished skull of an animal. It was beautiful in a morbid sort of way, with tattoo-like streaks and designs painted upon its surface and various lengths of beaded string dangling from its stubby horns. Dreamcatchers hung at either side.

Deciding she might question this later if there was time, Fuu quickly dragged the bureau aside, searched the tiny closet, pulled out one of the lightweight cots held inside, and returned to the kitchen.

By now Mugen was semiconscious, feebly sipping tea from the cup the woman held to his lips. She had him lying flat on the floor, holding his head up as best she could with one hand while administering the drink with the other. As soon as Fuu appeared, she carefully set the cup aside.

"Help me lift him, please."

Lean as he was, it was a bit of a struggle to get him up onto the cot without causing any further trauma; his face twisted into a series of expressions that looked like he was experiencing seven kinds of pain. By the time he was on his back again, what little energy he had gained moments earlier was completely drained out. Moving aside the simple, lightly built table that sat at the center of the kitchen, the woman once again asked Fuu to help her, this time to relocate him so he would be out of the way. Handing Fuu the tea, she instructed her to continue having him drink as much as he would take.

"Unfortunately I have nothing to feed you, so I'll need to step out for a minute. I'll return as soon as I can."

The store would be closing in about another fifteen minutes if she didn't hurry.

* * *

The scarlet glow of fire filled the space of the little kitchen, just barely reaching into the darkness that swallowed the rest of the house. Like the ironic imitation of a camp fire, three oil lamps burned brightly from their place on the kitchen table. Fuu sat relatively close to Mugen, whose breathing had normalized somewhat compared to before. She had managed to get the remainder of the tea into him, but the rest would depend on their newfound friend, who at the moment was preparing some sort of stew for them all. Suddenly, Fuu remembered her questions.

"Hey…um…what's a pulmonary contusion? It sounds pretty serious."

The woman quietly prepared three servings of the stew, straining one so that only broth filled the bowl. Placing these into a lid that probably belonged to a large storage box once, she walked over to them and set the makeshift tray down onto the floor.

Taking the bowl containing only broth, she began to feed it to Mugen gradually, his head propped up with a small, plump decorative pillow she fetched from her room.

"That means he has a bruised lung. And yes, it can become quite serious if the person doesn't receive treatment on time. I think your friend is going to be fine though, but it's a miracle I found you. I think another day, if that, and he may not have survived. As long as he continues drinking the teas and resting, everything should be alright."

Trying to ignore the skepticism now rising up in her at that statement, Fuu gazed at Mugen sadly.

"By the way, it doesn't seem we've gotten to know each other very well yet does it?" the woman said after serving a few more spoons of soup to her patient.

"My name is Koza."

Gladly taking this invitation to socialize, Fuu brightened up a bit.

"I'm Fuu, and thank you so much for your help. I'm not sure what we would have done if you hadn't been there."

The woman smiled cordially.

"It's nothing, really. And what about your friend here, what is he called?"

Fuu took another long look at the man, hugging her knees to her chest in a stubborn attempt to tough out the pain she was suffering.

"That's Mugen."

Koza's face all but lost its color as she gaped at Fuu with shock in her dark eyes.

"Mugen?" she echoed, turning to him as if she had no idea someone was still lying there. The sorry state he was in brought tears to her doe-like eyes as she began to recognize features that had been masked by blood, bruises, and scratches.

"I can't believe this…" she murmured to herself in amazement.

Fuu relaxed her tense position, her face full of even more questions.

"Wait, do you actually know him?"

Running her fingertips charily along his skin as if she would break him with the slightest touch, Koza nodded as she wiped away a falling tear.

"Yes. I know him from a long time ago, when my brother mixed himself up with some bad people. Mugen was part of his gang as a young boy. He might not have been older than eleven or twelve when he joined them."

She stopped, adjusting stray strands of hair that stuck to his damp forehead.

"Mukuro, my brother, introduced us because he felt I needed friends my own age. I was always alone in that sense. We didn't get to spend a lot of time together, but…when we did, he was always nice to me. I think I was the only person he ever knew how to be nice to."

Fuu scoffed to herself softly._ Got that right_, she thought.

"So…where is he now? Your brother," she asked.

Koza set the nearly emptied soup bowl aside, rising once again to retrieve something from the counter. Mixing it rapidly, she began applying the contents of a small stone bowl to Mugen's wounds. She spread the thick grayish-green salve all over his discolored skin.

"He's been on death row for quite a while. Who knows, they might have executed him by now. It serves him right for what he did…"

Her voice dropped at that part, as if even mentioning him was disgusting enough.

"Well…what did he do?" Fuu asked, her eyes occasionally turning their attention back to Mugen.

"Please don't take this personally, but it's something I'd rather not discuss."

There was silence between them. Eventually, Koza finished tending to Mugen and knelt there, penetrating him with a deep, almost sorrowful stare.

"I wonder if he'll remember who I am."

* * *

It must have been some kind of store, but it was too dark to make out specific shapes or colors. A pale blue light trickled into the aisles. Aisles that seemed to go on forever in either direction. In spite of the dark and absence of people, a lively song played from the intense blackness above. If there was a ceiling, it must have reached higher than the Tower of Babel. Lyrics faded in and out at irregular intervals, but they sounded garbled and deviously slow.

His own footsteps echoed loudly as he walked, ricocheting off every surface of the odd place. He wandered, not much concerned about the unusual circumstances in which he now found himself. Maybe he had snuck into the store earlier and laid low until closing time? He did that a few times before, after all. He was caught once and slapped with a fine he couldn't pay. The law was a joke, more aptly run by apes if given the chance.

_Attention shoppers, we will be closing in ten minutes. Please finish gathering your items and bring them to the nearest cashier, who will be happy to assist you. And as always, thank you for being our valued customer!_

How was it closing time when no one was even here to begin with and it was darker than tar as far as the eye could see?

Shrugging, he moved on. The aisles were lined on either side with tall shelves that could easily have topped forty feet or more. With every step he took though, the visibility seemed to improve. In one row, dozens and dozens of plastic and rubber animals sat, all with cute, benevolent expressions molded or painted onto their faces. Above these were stuffed creatures of all sizes, shapes and colors. The opposite shelf was brimming with brightly colored trucks and robots, planes and motorcycles. Action figures of every conceivable type lined the top and bottom rows.

In fact, it was a pretty impressive store considering its target audience. Gumball machines stood at every corner and bins of play and sports balls to make any boy (or tomboy) shout with delight. It was quite possible that every plaything ever conceived or likely to be produced was contained within this one building, whose parameters seemed indefinite.

_Welcome shoppers! We're holding a special promotion today, but we can't tell you what it is! That's right, it's a surprise. There are clues hidden throughout the store, and the first three people to figure it out will win a very special prize, so grab your carts and keep your eyes peeled!_

"The hell…?" he muttered to himself.

He was about to investigate the next aisle when he felt something soft squish beneath his foot. Looking down, he realized it was just a doll, its back facing him. Picking it up, he was surprised at how heavy the thing actually was. Something that resembled sand streamed out of it. He nearly dropped it upon turning it, however. The doll crudely but unmistakably looked like him. Its eyes appeared to have been ripped out. Its mouth was excessively stitched up. A deep, charred hole bore into its chest as if burned by the butt of a cigar.

"_Do you like your prize?_" the voice over the loudspeaker asked, this time with mocking iniquity.

And then he was awake. His skin was slick and covered in a sheen of cold sweat. And for some reason, it smelled like a health food store here. Lying still from the dull ache in his muscles, his eyes slowly shifted around. Wherever he was, it immediately invoked a feeling of belonging that was beyond his comprehension. All was quiet except the low rumble of boiling water to his left. Turning his neck stiffly towards the direction of the sound, he watched calmly as the blue flame of the stove top burned. Dripping water occasionally faded in and out in rhythm with the steady sound of pot's contents heating. Strong sunlight shone in through an open window above the sink. He could hear female voices drawing near, passing beneath the window and fading once more. A few seconds later, keys jingled at the front door and someone entered. Then another.

The first was perhaps a few inches shorter than he was, with a swarthy yet pleasing complexion. A dull red hair band pulled her otherwise bushy brunette tresses back neatly, draping her shoulders. She had a rather tribal appearance, softened by a demure, natural beauty. Behind her was an even shorter girl, also donning brown hair, only somewhat glossier and much lighter in comparison. Her head was down, the first girl's shadow obscuring her features. The silhouette this created was magical in its own right. Wait… Oh. It was just Fuu.

The first one stopped to check something at a few of the windows, the identity of which remained a mystery to him from his low, flat position. The two chatted quietly to each other for a minute or so, Fuu making her usual pointless silly comments. Suddenly she was looking his way and announcing merrily "Hey, he's awake!" as she practically skipped to his side. The other girl almost seemed displeased about the news, because she dragged along behind Fuu at a snail's pace. She was even prettier up close. Kneeling down beside him, her eyes seemed to stop at every feature of his face as if she would forget them if this was not done.

"Um…it's good to see you again…" her voice, gentler than a dove's coo, said to him timidly.

He returned her gaze with one of silent contemplation.

"Mugen…do you remember me?"

He blinked, shifted a few times, and settled again.

"Nope. "


	19. Smoke Signals

**Chapter 18- Smoke Signals**

**X X X X**

It was a little embarrassing how exotic the skin of a horse felt beneath her palm as it glided along the smooth, flawless coat of the great Palomino. The animal seemed not to pay her much mind, preferring to observe her studly mate from across the stable as he pawed impatiently at the earth beneath his hooves. A little smile appeared on Fuu's face as her hand ran over the distinct bump that protruded from the horse's side, wondering if they would get to stay long enough for her to see the newborn when it finally arrived.

She decided to allow herself this small break from reality once Mugen had finally stopped slipping in and out of brief comas and could take a full breath without flinching. She imagined there was all sorts of catching up to be done between him and this Koza girl, and try as she might, the idea that something beyond friendship once existed between them crept into her thoughts more than once. Even if there had been, it was far from any of her business.

In an effort to dissolve the thought and anything related to it, she distracted herself by taking another look at the weathered T-shirt she now wore; the word "Tahiti" was boldly arched above what would have been a cheery beach scene if its colors were not so dismally faded by excessive exposure to the sun. A pair of sea green shorts, in no better condition, fit as close to her waist as she was able to tie them. Koza had apologized to them numerous times about the hand-me-down clothing, though Mugen was probably the one better off: he had the privilege of sporting an old outfit of Koza's uncle that had barely been worn. Interestingly enough, he had been the one responsible for the strange skull hanging just above the front door. Koza explained to them over breakfast earlier this morning, at Fuu's request, that quite some time ago her uncle Okuru had gone on a hunting trip with friends and accidentally shot a buffalo calf that had been standing not even a yard away from its mother. Deeply remorseful but not wanting the youngster to die in vain, he had the creature skinned, its hide and meat delivered to the poorest family of the camp. Its skull would serve as a reminder to himself and their family to never act hastily,

"_For recklessness paves a path of sorrow,"_ Koza had quoted only half sullenly, remarking that the man was so virtuous he could never forgive himself of even the tiniest offenses. Fuu was sure they were words she would remember for many years to come.

* * *

"So his name was Mukuro, huh?"

Mugen gazed absently into the sizzling waves that wiggled and dissipated into the air from the rocky surface of the reservation ahead. The house sat upon a relatively large, flat mound overlooking most of the population below, creating a sense of loneliness he had learned to find solace in early on in life.

He rested lazily against one of the posts of the porch, one hand propped behind his head as the other rested upon his abdomen.

"I think I liked Flats better…had a better ring to it."

Koza said nothing to this, instead doing her best not to stare at him for the umpteenth time. He was only just beginning to heal from his injuries, the origin of which he refused to disclose no matter how nicely she asked. He made it quite clear she was going to extract nothing from him regarding how he and Fuu arrived here and where they were going.

Although they had sat here like this for hours, the conversation had gone mostly one way, with Koza doing most of the talking by volunteering information about her life since they had lost touch years ago. It pained her a little that he seemed not to care either way.

"Well, I won't impose on you any further I guess…but Mugen, it really is great to see you again."

And with that, she disappeared back into the house.

He scoffed, regretting the errors of his youth. She was still so damn naïve. At least she decided to spare him another hour of questions and genial chitchat that he simply wasn't in the mood for. Why had he allowed her to get so attached to him before? All she ever did was follow him around like a damn puppy, ever eager to please him in whichever way she could. And yet, for some reason, he reciprocated. In the probably five or six months they had known one another, they spent whatever spare time they could in each other's company. She would always be a year older than him, but no one would know it by how juvenile she behaved in his presence.

He had been fully aware of the whispered gossip that took place among his older friends, but at the time it didn't really matter. There were times, however transient, when Koza actually made him feel like a person. If someone asked him about it now, he would fail miserably at piecing together the right words to describe the phenomenon. One never asked anything of the other, nor was there any oath- spoken or otherwise- binding them together like so many jaded storylines of those "coming of age" friendship tales. Whatever existed between the two simply was.

He never let on about his discovery of an old gift he had left her with only days before they parted. It so happened that yesterday, while she and Fuu whittled the day away playing with smelly animals, he decided to get a little exercise and explore the house for a bit. Or snoop, rather.

There was little to go through. Only the tiny kitchen, a bare living room, and two additional rooms made up the shack in its entirety. One room, which he imagined belonged to Koza, was only somewhat livelier; a sleeping bag lay neatly to the left, a stack of novels gathering dust in the corner topped by a small lamp whose shade was covered in star-shaped outlines. To the right stood a relatively wide dresser, its surface littered with an assortment of knick-knacks and other items that he could have dismissed as typical girl junk. Could have, if something familiar hadn't caught his eye.

There, nestled among bottle caps, flowers, and beads, sat a little bird. He plucked it up carefully, its delicate paper body emitting soft crumpling sounds at his touch. It was a rich red and gold, intricate floral and geometric patterns adorning it all over. It was in perfectly crisp condition, exactly as it was when he first presented it to her.

"_Wow, this is amazing Mugen, how did you learn to make something so beautiful?" the girl asked, mesmerized by the charming paper figure resting in her hand. It was obvious she had never seen anything like it before._

"_It's something called origami or whatever. Got it from this arts and crafts show my aunt always had on…" he replied awkwardly. _

"_Origami…" she parroted, still showering the little present with undue attention. _

_He teetered from side to side uncomfortably, unable to keep his hands or arms still as they took on lives of their own, dangling upon his head or swinging about restlessly._

"_So you like it then?"_

_She regarded the object for several more moments adoringly before looking up at him. She seemed to glow with appreciation. _

"_I love it."_

Pondering over this scene a while longer, Mugen had tucked the memory into the pocket of his newly acquired pants and exited the room.

A strong gust of hot wind blew in now, flinging sand and pebble fragments onto the pale wood of the porch. The recognizable sound of sandals approaching caused him to shift his attention to the figure now making its way up the steps.

"Well you're looking better."

Fuu pulled her hair up into a ponytail as she seated herself next to him. She seemed mildly refreshed compared to the past several days, but he would never say so.

"Well you're not" he said, not bothering to look her way.

Although she badly wanted to let this slide and ignore the comment, she couldn't.

"Why do you have to be such an _ass_? Just the other night you let me-"

"I let you _what_?" he growled, his black eyes burning into her now.

"Nothing. Just forget it."

She could have kicked herself for even bringing the shallow act of kindness up at all.

"That's right. Stop reading so much into shit, it's gonna keep landing your ass in trouble."

Couldn't she understand that he didn't _want_ to be her friend? That he didn't _need_ one? Especially not some harebrained bimbo who probably couldn't boil an egg even if she had explicit step by step instructions to follow.

He sighed and stood abruptly, retreating inside and slamming the door behind him. The screen smacked loudly against it.

Fuu sat on that porch, baking her thighs against its hot surface. A dog barked madly somewhere not too far off from where she was. She wept in perfect silence, her face hot and slick with tears and sweat.

It wasn't long before the door creaked open again and a hand rested lightly upon her shoulder.

"Fuu…please don't cry. Why don't you come with me for a little while?"

* * *

The smell of smoke wafted through the air.

Fuu stared into the fire as it crackled and popped, providing a little relief from the chill of the night that made her shiver, in stark contrast to the sweltering heat that practically cooked her in her own skin mere hours before.

Although she had enjoyed helping Koza catch the fish, cleaning them was another matter entirely. Leaving the nauseating ordeal to the expert, Fuu resigned herself to hearing Koza's attempts at comforting her.

"As I'm sure you can imagine, Mugen hasn't had an easy life at all. I know that's really no excuse for mistreating people, but I think that's the only way he knows how to handle situations that make him…I don't know…squirm, for lack of a better word."

She said all this quite calmly, scraping the scales from one of the fish as if she were trying to remove a stubborn patch of food from a plate. The brutality of it made Fuu feel guilty about eating the poor creature later.

"Well, I don't care _what_ his reasons are. He isn't the only person in the world who has problems. There are people suffering every day beyond anything we could ever imagine and I'm sure they don't behave like that. Like animals."

Koza chuckled at this, now on the sixth and final fish.

"I think you're right, Fuu. But you know, I have the advantage of knowing what he was like before he became the bitter person you see today. Even if he shows the exact opposite, Mugen's still a good person."

"Yeah right…" Fuu hissed under her breath, rolling her eyes.

She didn't bother to watch as Koza finished cleaning the fish and proceeded to skewer and roast them over the fire.

"I'm what now?"

The gangly man stood a few feet away from them, hands in pockets. His face was stern as he looked to both women before shuffling over and throwing himself onto the ground butt first.

"A dirty no-good jerk, that's what you are" Fuu jabbed, refusing to look his way.

"Damn skippy" he retorted smoothly, helping himself to a fish. He bit into it ravenously like a starved wolf, without regard for even the most basic rules of etiquette.

When the fish was finally done, Koza gathered hers and Fuu's portions from the fire.

"Fuu, aren't you eating?" she asked, nibbling gingerly at her food.

Glaring sullenly at the fishing poles that lay strewn to the side, Fuu shook her head slowly.

"No thanks, I'm not very hungry right now…maybe later."

Mouth still full, Mugen quickly cut in.

"Better decide now, 'cuz later there ain't gonna be any left if I can help it."

Fuu cringed, gritting her teeth. She would love to skewer _him_ on a stick right now if only she could find one big enough.

"See if I care. I hope you choke on it."

Mugen smirked an evil smirk. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I know somethin' you can choke on, but I'm not sure I want that bitchy little mouth of yours anywhere near me."

Somehow Koza had managed to ignore the schoolyard tirade taking place before her. Instead she ate quietly, her attention fixed above.

"Fuu, what is your birthday?" she asked.

Taken aback by the suddenness of the question, Fuu decided to call a truce for the time being.

"October 12th, how come?"

Koza smiled to herself and nodded knowingly.

"So you're a Libra. How fitting! But you allow your scales to tip far too easily. You should always strive for balance in everything you do."

Mugen made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

"You sound like a goddamn fortune cookie."

Koza snickered softly.

"Now it's your turn, Mugen. When is your birthday?"

"Don't know, don't care."

Fuu took this small window of opportunity to get even.

"What's the matter, afraid you'll get something stupid like you?"

Mugen yawned, dropping onto his back as he munched on what was supposed to be Fuu's dinner.

"You really suck at comebacks, you know that?"

"Come on, just tell us" Koza persisted.

He continued eating, paying no mind to their nonsense. After a while of hearing nothing but lip smacking, they gave up and turned to other topics.

"It's November 5th."

Koza turned to him, pausing for several moments to count and debate quietly with herself. Finally, she stopped, trying to control the grin that would surely give her thoughts away.

"Well that's not even the least bit surprising. A Scorpio to the core."

Mugen picked his teeth with the sharpest end of a skewer.

"Whatever that means."

Koza looked at him, a bit of whimsy Fuu couldn't quite place sparkling in her eyes.

"It means there's much more to you than your outward appearance would suggest..." she said cryptically.

"That doesn't tell me much then, does it?" he grumbled, gnawing the stick now.

"It does if you know how to look harder" she answered, less playfully this time.

Wanting to redirect the conversation, Fuu cut in.

"What about you, Koza? What are you?"

The woman snapped out of the mild daze she had fallen into and looked to Fuu now.

"Oh me, I'm just a humble Virgo. Nothing very special about us."

Mugen had enough. Pitching the stick aside, he rolled into a sitting position before getting to his feet and stretching.

"Well, the psychobabble's been great but I got a date with Earth now. You two loons can let your lives be run by a bunch of gas balls and planets if you want, but I make my own damn destiny."

He slipped both hands back into their fabric stations and started back towards the house again.

"For better or worse…" he added grimly.


	20. Tears Before Bedtime

**A/N**: In this chapter I incorporate a direct quote from Episode 13/14 during the brief flashback in which Koza and Mugen are watching the stars together.

* * *

**Chapter 19- Tears Before Bedtime**

**x x x x**

Sometimes, during the course of our lives, we develop certain traits that make the pangs of living more tolerable. These usually take the form of harmless behaviors that become second nature to us, things we don't even think twice about. They very much become part of who we are.

And so it was for Fuu. The girl was guilty of an increasingly long list of faults it seemed, both personal and social. By now she had all but forgotten the significance of the dilemma she currently faced, and as more and more time went on without so much as a badge or siren to make her tremble, the situation itself gradually receded from her thoughts.

It was her nature, in most cases, to simply blend into whatever circumstances that happened to find their way into her life whether she was conscious of it or not. Jin no longer haunted her dreams as he had been just about every night for the past several days. Things felt as if they were finally beginning to slow down for her, in fact. She didn't have to worry anymore about which shampoo was causing her hair to dry or how out-of-date the style of the shoes she wore was. There was no longer any reason to fuss incessantly over the shapes of her nails or the once dreaded blemishing of her pampered skin. And there was something nearly surreal about the freedom that living without dependency on gadgets and gizmos afforded. It wasn't until just recently that she realized how peaceful her existence could be without intrusive calls and circling crowds to disturb her every few minutes.

It had come to the point that, for all she cared, life could have started anew here in this quiet patch of humanity nestled God-knows-where in the maws of the desert. It just didn't matter anymore, and she was starting to like this new perspective.

She woke naturally each morning from the touch of the sunlight that beamed cheerily through the lone window of Koza's room. She had insisted on Fuu sharing quarters with her as soon as she realized Fuu wasn't entirely comfortable sleeping within Mugen's general territory- also known as the living room. He had taken it upon himself to lounge on whatever happened to be in his way when it was time to snooze.

The truth, though, was that Fuu's discomfort existed only in Koza's mind. In reality she knew that no matter how abrasively he behaved, he didn't pose a direct threat to her well being. Occasionally there were some nights she wasn't particularly tired and had the opportunity to sneak carefully to the bedroom entrance to watch him. Usually there was nothing special to look at aside from a mess of arms and legs strewn sloppily about like a pile of pick-up sticks. And of course there was still the heart-stopping sound of his snores to spice up an otherwise dull soundscape. His lack of poise aside though, Fuu found herself drawn to something. She preferred the word "drawn" as opposed to its less appealing synonym: attracted. It was the word she had to struggle keeping in its place at the very back of her mind. Yet there it sat, waiting to seize her when there wasn't a weird new insect to inspect or fact to learn about horse gestation.

There was a rare night or two when the moon's light was hidden behind thick walls of clouds that promised to sprinkle temporary relief down onto the baked land beneath them. Not wanting the place to be completely devoured by darkness, Koza would keep a lantern burning to brighten such nights. It was then that Fuu faced especially challenging realizations. Firelight complemented his features quite beautifully, if such a word could possibly be used in the same sentence with him. He was pure heat, and the warmth of the light's colors blending with his flesh proved delightful to her eyes in ways not even the most detailed of artwork could equal. Sometimes she watched long enough to witness moments when he fell silent, breathing a rhythm she could have easily lulled off to if she let it. There was almost the wish that she could be close to him at least once more during small moments like these. And yet these thoughts were both comforting and awkward for her at once. She shuddered to think what he would say if he knew. Each time the startling idea came up, the spell would be broken and she could finally get back to sleep.

There were other times when he wasn't there at all and she didn't care much to find out where he'd wandered off to. It was to be expected that he wasn't one to be held down to any one place at any given time because nothing owned him but his own will. A will to do, say, and think whatever he pleased with no one at all to answer to.

"Are you going to stare at me like a dead fish or do you plan to get those hairpins sometime today?" a harsh voice demanded.

Fuu's face blushed with embarrassment; not a month on the job and already she was making a fool of herself. Wanting to grow more familiar with the locals, she had decided to casually ask around the reservation for work much to Mugen's dismay. When it came to the point where he knew for sure she wouldn't budge on the matter, he promptly informed her that it would be her ass on the line if she screwed anything up and that he washed his hands of any and all responsibility should something happen.

Sighing to herself quietly, Fuu responded with a nervous smile as she quickly scanned the shelves behind her and located the item the irritated woman across the counter was waiting for.

"Sorry about that ma'am. These will be $3.75. Is there anything else you-"

"I don't even know _why_ they have to keep them behind the counter like that to begin with, it's not like someone's gonna burst through the door with a gun demanding hair accessories! For God's sake!" the woman fumed, angrily slamming four shabby dollar bills onto the counter and making off with her purchase. Her pale skin notwithstanding, it was obvious she was no resident of anywhere near here.

"Stupid tourists…" Fuu muttered to herself.

Although the pay was lousy and some of the customers even lousier, Fuu hated to break a commitment once it was made. The storekeepers, a serious but kind married couple, were immediately fond of her and apparently happy to have an extra hand around the store. Once in a while Koza would drop by to pick up a few things and she welcomed the brief visit. Lately those visits had dwindled down to zero, however. Okuru, Koza's uncle, had passed through town a couple of days ago to catch up with some old hunting buddies he hadn't seen in several years and she assumed that perhaps she was simply spending time with him. Though she had few opportunities to speak with the man, he seemed like a wise and interesting person. Maybe she would make an effort to strike a conversation with him later that evening if she wasn't too worn out from battling cranky travelers all day.

* * *

"I see you finally found some use for those old rags of mine" the older man joked, nodding in the direction where Mugen sat outside.

"Yes…they're a bit of a loose fit, but I think they work better for him than they did for you twenty-odd years ago," his niece quipped as she poured another large bowl of stew for him.

"Hey, you were barely out of diapers when I was a twenty-something. Besides, you wouldn't even have those dreadful clothes if your mother hadn't needlessly clung onto them when I went off to live on my own."

Koza frowned slightly at the mention of her mother, stung once because she had passed away and twice because her father remarried not very long afterwards.

Regretting his words, Okuru rested a strong hand upon hers.

"I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. She meant as much to me as she did to you. Of all my sisters she was the closest to me."

Koza simply nodded silently as she sat, staring into the chunky brown liquid in front of her.

"You know you really should learn to eat other things aside from soup Koza, no wonder you're so thin. I bet little Fox Ear could arm wrestle you without any trouble at all!"

She stirred the contents of her bowl glumly.

"Your daughter turned three just this spring, Uncle. I'm sure even with my twiggy frame she wouldn't be a match for me just yet."

The man smiled at this, finishing his second serving relatively quickly before teasing her about the moody guy outside.

"So, you certainly have an interesting taste in boyfriends, hm? The boy looks like something from one of those hip-hop gangster videos you kids watch these days."

Koza, fearing Mugen may have overheard this, answered in a somewhat snarky tone,

"He isn't my boyfriend, and I don't watch whatever hip-hop gangster videos you're referring to."

Slightly taken aback by the uncharacteristic sharpness of her voice, Okuru nodded and said nothing more on the matter. Standing up to take his leave, he announced,

"Well, I'd better have a look at your mare before I head back to Peter's. He wants to take us fishing in the morning."

Relieved, Koza agreed.

"Thanks, Uncle. I appreciate it."

Kissing and patting her head as he had always done since her infancy, Okuru ambled outside to the stable, glancing down at a solemn-faced Mugen as he passed along.

It wasn't until some time after her uncle had left the property that Koza ventured outside to find him. The porch was empty.

"Mugen?" she called in a low voice.

She received no response. She didn't bother to look in the stable because she knew that he cared for animals about as much as he cared for most humans.

She stood in place for some time, hoping he hadn't been too offended by what he may have heard earlier. Then something strange caught her attention: an overturned ladder, the one she kept at the side of the house in case she ever needed to reach the roof, lay flat on the ground at her feet.

Not needing to guess how it got there, Koza lifted it up and set it back to its place beside the wall. She knew he would be up there, and as much as she wanted to join him, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

It took several long moments of inner debating and doubt before she finally found the nerve to ask.

"Can I come up?"

Silence.

"Mugen…"

Giving up, she turned to go back inside.

"I don't know what you're askin' me for, it's your house" a rugged voice spoke from above.

As if on cue, she shuffled back to the ladder and climbed up until she was kneeling skittishly on the wood that made up the roof of her little home. It would be the first time she had bothered to do so.

Adjusting to the strange sensation of being up higher than the height of a steed, she crawled cautiously over to where Mugen lay, hands behind his head as he faced the glittering firmament above.

"Hey…"

"'Sup…" he greeted curtly. "That's gangster talk for 'hello', in case that flew over your head."

Biting her lip, she let out a tiny nervous laugh.

"Oh, so you did hear that."

"Last time I checked I wasn't deaf. But it's okay, nobody fucks around with a gangster."

"Don't be like that…please."

He maintained his gaze locked onto the stars, sighing with obvious frustration after nothing was said for several minutes.

"How am I supposed to be then?"

The question could have been literal or rhetorical, she didn't know which. Either way, it was very unlike any response she might have come to expect from him.

"I don't know. Maybe less…angry?"

He blinked once and resumed his staring contest with the sky.

"I'm not angry."

"What are you then?"

He grunted to the tone of 'I don't know', shrugging.

"I'm me."

She imagined her mind as a great spider's web, catching everything she saw or heard and mulling things over to make better sense of them. These last two words he spoke, simple as they were, spoke volumes to her.

Looking down now at her folded hands, she said quietly,

"That's just it though, I don't know who that is."

His face was hard as stone.

"Maybe no one needs to know."

Somehow, she couldn't stop herself from feeling that familiar prick to the heart one feels when someone close says something careless.

"I…well…" she faltered

He faced her. "Well?"

"Am I no one?" she managed, almost choking on the words.

There was another period of silence, and this time he wouldn't be the one to break it.

"Mugen…why won't you tell me what's wrong? Why are you really here? What happened to you and Fuu?"

He closed his eyes as the roar of a plane passing overhead provided a momentary release from the pressure she was trying to apply once again.

"I was your friend once. You remember that much, don't you?"

"Things change, that's life. No use hanging onto what's done and over with."

She turned her face now to hide the tears that sprang up from this second blow, far worse than the first.

As if he had done her no harm, he changed the subject.

"This isn't the first time I've been up here, y'know. Think I can sleep better up here than anywhere else."

Forcing the pain from her voice, she asked in a whisper,

"Why's that?"

"Eh, I dunno. Could be anything. Only thing I can think of is maybe I forgot how to relax indoors."

She wasn't able to answer this. Right now she didn't know how or care to know; it was difficult enough pretending his words hadn't cut her. The more she tried not to focus on them, the harder their teeth bit into her. Suddenly she broke like a poorly tied knot binding a wriggling creature in its grasp. She thought of the loss of her mother again and how hopelessly alone she actually was.

"It's not fair…"

Puzzled, he muttered grumpily,

"What isn't?"

She looked up at last, searching the scene above her for answers to questions she hadn't entirely formed yet.

"It's not fair…that they get to be beautiful. Not when everything is so ugly down here."

He shifted once, seeming to look for answers himself.

"Meh…they can't see a thing from up there. If we were lookin' down from up there, nobody here'd look bigger than a grain of sand. They are what they are and we are what we are and that's just the end of it."

Koza looked down at him, burning inside with a sudden rush of emotions that seemed to appear from thin air. There was an instant surge of desperation that took hold of her and it frightened her.

"Mugen?"

"Yep?"

Not bothering to think, not wanting to, she leaned down until her lips hovered just above his. Everything halted at that moment, down to her very ability to think. All she could do was see…see his dark eyes peer into her, breaking past every pretense she could throw at him. She despised herself for her weakness, knowing that after tonight she probably wouldn't be able to face him again.

He seemed devoid of any hint of a reaction and she felt frozen in place, wanting nothing more than to vanish but unable to tear herself away from him. His skin tingled from the feel of her warm breath, something he was far from accustomed to.

"I don't think you wanna do that…"

She relaxed, grateful that he had spared her any further humiliation. Grateful that the tension was now broken as quickly and suddenly as it had come about. She backed away as the sound of feet below brought her back to Earth.

Fuu called into the empty house.

"I'm sorry…" she said shakily as she scurried away and disappeared from his sight.


	21. Tumbleweeds

**A/N: **Ok, time for a much needed note thingy here. It seems some of my dear readers are having/have had trouble following this story, and for the most part I would have to agree. Although writing this has brought me a lot of joy, it's also brought plenty of frustration during the times it seems impossible to piece together major events without being too slow, too fast, boring, nonsensical, or forced (chpts. 12 + 13 are especially guilty of this). So if you feel the story has become any of those things, I'm sorry. I truly am. I never planned on dragging Fuu and Mugen's relationship out this long and would have loved to get to the nitty gritty ages ago. But as some writers will probably tell you, sometimes these things just write themselves and you kinda just have to go with the flow. That being said, chapters will probably be longer than usual from here on out and the Koza arc concludes with this installment. I wanted to do much more with Koza but felt that ultimately this would draw attention away from our main couple unnecessarily. Oh, and I probably should have mentioned this before, but the "new clothes" Mugen acquired are actually the same ones he wears in the series, minus the geta and red haori. Clever right? I know, I know...me so cool. Anyhoo, thank you for your patience and hang on to your mice because things are finally gonna get a move on... ;-)

* * *

**Chapter 20- Tumbleweeds**

**X X X X**

An unsettling aura lingered within the walls of the diminutive structure that sat upon The Shadow Hill, called such for the strikingly odd manner in which the darkness of nightfall managed to spill so completely over the area. The girl that lived there, preferring not to mix with neighbors unnecessarily, was said by some to be possessed by mischievous spirits who wanted to keep her sad and alone.

The opinions of superstitious residents aside, however, the uneasiness of the place was not the work of devious supernatural beings. No, in some ways this was worse. Koza spent considerably more time with her horses and during the rare times she chose to even be seen by Mugen or Fuu she spoke little. On several occasions Fuu had caught Koza in the throes of sobbing as soundlessly as possible beneath the perceived protection of her sleeping bag when she thought no one was looking or cared to look. As tempted as she was though, she decided that perhaps finding out what was wrong was better left unasked. She also knew bringing the matter to Mugen's attention would be as helpful as asking the dust coating the windowsills for advice.

Fuu sighed. She didn't know much, but she did know that whatever had Koza so upset definitely had something to do with the rogue who decided to plant himself in front of the rickety TV set that was one of the only items keeping the living room from being completely empty.

Giving the object a few swift smacks to its side, Mugen produced a couple of irked words before returning to his side again, propping his head up with one hand as he glared mindlessly into the blurry screen. Not sure what else there was to do for the time being, Fuu carefully removed a somewhat plump standard envelope from the beaded satchel she now carried around since it was given to her by the couple she worked for. With all the veneration of one entrusted with carrying the Holy Ark itself, she counted each bill for the second time that day: $147, exactly the same amount as before. It was as much as she had managed to save between occasionally restocking the pantry (entirely of her own accord) and replacing whatever Mugen decided needing breaking, which- considering his natural brutality- was not uncommon. Surprisingly, although he was quite aware of the little stash's existence, he never once demanded to know the amount. It wouldn't have been much of a shock to her if he had already gone through the money himself by now anyway.

_At least we have a little something to get by on_, she thought.

Just as her mind began to wander, though, the screen Mugen had been fixated on for the past half hour demanded her attention as well. The car commercial, with its rowdy music and overblown pitch lines, played for perhaps the fifth time now and suddenly Fuu realized something she probably should have questioned much earlier.

"Hey, what ever happened to Jin's car?" she asked in a low voice in case Koza unexpectedly walked in.

Not giving her the courtesy of turning to face her he asked,

"Who?"

"The guy you killed and _stole_ from, that's who!" she hissed sharply.

"Got rid of it. And you can't steal from dead guys, genius."

She crawled up beside him like a livid tarantula.

"What do you mean you got _rid _of it?"

Sitting up, he crossed his arms nonchalantly. He looked rather haggard, as if he hadn't known sleep for a good long while.

"I mean it no longer exists, unless you count a smoldering pile of scrap metal sittin' in the middle of nowhere."

Fuu stared as if she had just been informed the world would implode in the next ten minutes. Stopping her before she could say another word, Mugen rubbed his temple.

"Yeah, silly me, I shoulda broken that down for ya before. See, we can't exactly go joyriding in that stiff's property without a pretty big chance of gettin' noticed sooner or later. We have pesky little things like license plates and GPSs to worry about these days, but no need to overwhelm your little mouse brain with fancy words. Just be satisfied with the fact that I know what I'm doin' and we're stuck finding some other way of getting from Point A to Point B now."

Although she never expected to stay here forever, the thought of eventually leaving crushed her a little. She felt guilty at the thought of leaving Koza behind. In fact she would probably even miss her, being the only female companion she had known in a long time.

"So, what are we gonna do?"

"Haven't figured that out yet…" he answered, rising to stand.

From her seated position, he seemed to have gained a little weight during their stay. Although he frequently appeared sleep deprived and at times even stressed, he had visibly gained more health since their arrival. Fuu wasn't sure whether to attribute this to the slower-paced lifestyle, a more abundant availability of food, or continuous exposure to the motherly nurturing that Koza sometimes not-so-subtly attempted to shower him with. Fuu couldn't say she was very thrilled about observing this, but Mugen seemed to show little interest in her efforts. In fact at times he was downright callous. There were times when she felt moved to reprimand his behavior, but something slightly more sinister would prevent her. It was very difficult to admit to herself, but she almost felt relieved whenever he deliberately rejected Koza's advances, regardless of how innocent they were. She genuinely liked Koza and certainly wished her no ill will, but strange new thoughts and feelings had started setting in as time dragged on and she had more opportunities to reflect on things.

She had begun to notice small things. The way a strand of hair would hover just above his eyebrow if a breeze flicked it out of place or the way the various curves and angles of his body made her feel warm in a most peculiar way. She scoffed to herself as he turned to leave, wondering how on Earth this could have happened. How had she allowed herself to commit this kind of foolishness? He was the perfect embodiment of everything to run for the hills from, yet here she was, noticing things she shouldn't be noticing and feeling things she _definitely _should not be feeling. Hopefully it was just a temporary phase and nothing more, perhaps a product of the bizarre situation that had unfurled over the past few months.

"Later," Mugen finally said, heading for the door just as Koza opened it. The two stood for several moments, unable to avert their gazes. Koza clutched the paper bags she carried to her chest slightly, an expression of anxiety and loss plainly visible on her face. Whereas before she had tried her hardest to avoid showing the smallest indication of the tornado of emotions she kept locked inside, lately it was as if she didn't even care. She forgot what it was to feel shame. Instinctively she moved aside and allowed him to pass, which he did without so much as a pause.

Pretending she hadn't witnessed the brief awkward exchange, Fuu immediately inquired about what Koza had been up to.

"Well…um…there's this ceremony the Quechan people celebrate…" she replied, apparently not wanting to elaborate more. She strode past her and settled the bags on the floor.

"Really? What for?" Fuu pressed with excitement at the mention of festivities.

Koza fell silent for some time, picking through the various contents of the bags and pacing here or there to look for something.

"For the dead."

Disappointed and somewhat surprised, Fuu's voice sank.

"Oh…"

"Yeah, it's kind of like a version of _Dia de los Muertos_ I guess. Something like that…" Koza spoke forlornly as if her mind was in another realm completely.

Fuu watched gloomily as Koza went about her business, disappearing into her room and returning with several more items. Sitting down across from Fuu, she laid the items between them. A marked heaviness weighed her next words down as she spoke them.

"In the past I avoided this ceremony. I've never wanted anything at all to do with death. Have you ever lost anyone, Fuu?" she asked, her eyes shining as she stared into the buckskin dress laid before them.

"My dad…and my mom too, but I don't know whatever happened to her; she left us when I was still very young."

"Yes, but at least yours is still living."

A lively commotion echoed from outside as neighbors prepared for the event to come later that night. The smell of roasting meat and other traditional foods filled the air, blending with the beat of drummers practicing their ritual songs. For people about to observe such a solemn occasion there didn't seem very much for anyone to be down about. Anyone except Koza, who up until now had become somewhat of a statue where she knelt.

"What's this dress for? It's really pretty…" Fuu offered, running her fingertips along the tightly woven beads and fleshy tassels.

"It's an offering. Traditionally we bring new clothing but I don't think I want this anymore. I'm sure Mama needs it more than I do anyway."

Glancing momentarily at her mother's last photograph, she tucked it safely away into the pocket of her worn old jeans and left to prepare.

* * *

He looked on as the dying flames of the massive bonfire, roaring with life earlier before, consumed the paper bird he had tossed into its jaws. Most everyone had returned home by now, their bellies and minds filled with the events of the evening. The charred remains of offerings thrown into the fire lay at its center and he thought to himself scornfully what good any of the items would do for the deceased if they were a mere pile of ash now.

Making his way past a few remaining villagers who had stayed behind to clean up, he looked out to where Koza's house stood off in the distance. The windows glowed dully from the lanterns lit inside. Patting his pocket softly, he nodded: the money was still there. If he had more decency, he might have reconsidered stealing from Fuu a second time, but she was just making this too easy for him; there the little bag had been hanging in plain sight while she washed in the poor excuse for a shower that Koza had installed at the rear of the stable. He would be needing it more this time around anyway.

* * *

"_And now in other news, we return to a story we've been closely following since its grisly inception several months ago. As you may recall, Fuu Kasumi, teen superstar of Ume International Modeling Association, disappeared from the hotel she and her manager and legal guardian Jin Takeda were staying at during late July of last year. Although sources confirm she had briefly been reunited with Takeda sometime in November, the twenty-four year old was found dead after what appears to have been a senseless homicide. Staff members who were present the night of Takeda's death confirm that a man, believed to be between the ages of 19-25, had been seen in and around the building for at least thirty to forty-five minutes before the attack. Newer details also confirm that Takeda's vehicle, the 2006 Lexus model pictured here, was stolen the same night. Blood samples taken from the scene of the incident indicate that Kasumi may have been injured during the attack but the exact origin of the blood or the nature of its cause is unclear at this time. The girl has not been seen since then and is assumed to have been abducted by the suspect, whose photo you now see. No motive has been determined as of yet, but it is assumed that an inappropriate relationship may have taken place between Kasumi and the two men thanks to evidence found on Takeda's computer consisting of numerous celebrity gossip websites depicting the victim and suspect together in several photos. Police are asking for the public's cooperation in this matter, so if you've seen anything or have information that may be helpful, you are urged to call the number on your screen. Dave Rochester up next with weather and sports." _

Koza stood at the kitchen table, unable to tear her eyes from the small television that had been left on for most of the day. She had been too preoccupied to bother turning it off before, but now she wished that she had. The herbs she had been in the middle of bundling and hanging to dry lay still upon the table as she seated herself, dazed, wondering if she had any right to feel betrayed right now. None of this should have surprised her, but somehow it did. Had Mugen truly succumbed to the evil so present in his life? She fought to prevent the idea from taking root in her mind, refusing to let go of the boy she had grown to care so much for. In either case, this was the bitter icing to top the cake of her miserable day. Calmly getting to her feet again, she paced into her room where Fuu lay asleep on the flat single mattress she had bought for herself rather cheaply from a community sale.

Throwing decorum out the window, Koza demanded sternly,

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Fuu's only reply was a tiny puff of breath as she shifted in her sleep from discomfort.

Striking the frame of the door sharply with her hand, Koza repeated,

"Fuu, why didn't you tell me what happened?"

As if heavily drugged, Fuu opened her eyes and blinked a number of times before turning in confusion towards the direction of Koza's voice.

"What's going on…?" she croaked.

"That's exactly what I'd like to know. Can you explain to me why I've been sheltering fugitives in my home for the past three months?" Koza asked with controlled anger.

Worry tore through Fuu like a knife through butter. Sitting up, she gaped at Koza blankly, unsure of what she could possibly say next.

"How did you…"

"Nevermind how I found out."

"Koza please don't be upset, I can explain if you let me."

Rolling her eyes, Koza turned the little lamp of the room on to better observe Fuu's face. She had a knack for sorting liars from truth tellers just by looking for the right cues.

"I'm listening."

Stars, looking much like paper cut-outs for a kindergarten art project, scattered throughout the little room as soon as they were illuminated, providing a contrastingly serene environment to the unexpected tension now imposed on Fuu.

With no lack of reluctance, she recounted all of the events that had taken place leading up to this very moment, insisting that although she and Mugen were trying to keep as low a profile as possible, neither of them were in fact guilty of anything. It was all just a terrible accident, an unfortunate mess.

Pity softening her eyes, Koza sat across from Fuu now.

"I'm sorry your friend…well, Jin, did that to you."

She imagined Mugen fighting tooth and nail to protect Fuu and couldn't stop herself from feeling somewhat envious knowing he would never do such a thing for her.

"Well if I know Mugen at all he'd rather die than set foot in a police station, so you can forget about turning yourselves in…even if you are innocent, which I believe that you are. I'm sorry I got so upset with you."

"Don't worry about it, I would have reacted the same way" Fuu said with a sleepy smile. Lifting a corner of the flimsy mattress she slept on, she retrieved her satchel and reached inside.

"I've been setting aside a little money in case we ever need to-WHAT?"

Fuu shook the little pouch incredulously. It was completely empty.

"How could he do this to me? Again…" she said in defeat.

Koza stood and peered outside through the tiny window of her room. The reservation was utterly still and unlit now, save for whatever luminosity trickled in from the fairly inactive highway.

"If you go now, you might be able to catch him. I know he can't have made it too far from the reservation by foot and the buses ended their shifts hours ago. I would really prefer that you wait until morning, though."

She turned to Fuu.

"Or you can always stay here, if you prefer…you're always welcome here."

The sincerity of those words touched Fuu, even through the mild despair she was experiencing.

"Koza I couldn't do that…but thank you."

Koza closed her eyes, turning to the window once more.

"He needs you. Go to him. Just…promise you'll watch over him. He's not nearly as strong as he fools himself into being."

* * *

He couldn't believe this place. During the day the sun was so hot your _insides_ would sweat but at night, it was a whole other story. It was cold as shit out here. Not that he was unfamiliar with the various weather patterns of certain areas of the west coast; he just never quite got used to it. Hunger and going weeks without bathing, sure. Burning by day and shivering by night, not exactly.

Mugen lay wide awake, making himself as comfortable as humanly possible on an old wooden bench that felt like it would become part of him soon if he didn't find a better place to rest. Coyotes fought and bayed somewhere off in the distance of the surrounding desert, their disembodied voices occasionally masked by a passing truck or car full of insane college students too drunk off their asses to tell one thing from the other.

The bench creaked and groaned beneath his weight as he tossed and turned with frustration for another few minutes before finally deciding that the cold, bare floor of the train station would feel like a bed of clouds in comparison.

The thin cotton shirt he wore was beginning to itch a little, and he wasn't sure if it was all the sweating from the day or just one more entry to add to the growing list of annoying things tonight. He estimated that he may have wandered a mile, maybe almost two, from the reservation. Since he couldn't seem to get to sleep it was probably a good time to plan whether taking the train in the morning would be in his best interests.

A sudden crunch of gravel caused him to rise slightly, wondering if perhaps one of those dumbass mutts thought he might make a tasty midnight snack.

He was met with only a dumbass instead, sans the mutt.

Huffing as if she had jogged all the way from the reservation, Fuu dropped onto the bench.

"Give…the money…_back_..." she panted, hands on her knees as she struggled to take a good breath. She looked like a packed mule what with all of the sacks and other bundles hanging from both shoulders.

"Piss off, you should have stayed where I left ya and earned it back again. You were just fine at that Indian place, why the hell did you have to show up here? Why can't you just _leave me alone_? What, you're not satisfied until you've completely ruined my goddamn life? Well too late sister, that shipped sailed a long time ago!"

With that he jumped to his feet, dusted himself off, and marched ahead. Not even waiting to catch her breath, Fuu tottered after him.

"Wait…" she heaved, running until she was close enough to grasp his hand.

Miraculously, he stopped.

"You would have been safe with Koza. I gave you a way out of this."

He almost tried to pull his hand away, but he stopped himself. He sighed deeply.

Fuu hopped forward to his side, adjusting one of the bags she carried so that it wouldn't continue sliding off her shoulder. He looked down at her, only now realizing how small she really was. The girl was about as dumb and loyal as any dog, but something in her eyes tugged at him inside. Koza seemed to display similar behavior, but he knew that it was her weakness that made her desperate. She needed far too many things he simply couldn't give. Not to her, not to anyone. He didn't have anything to give. Maybe they couldn't see it, or maybe they just didn't want to. Broken girls seeking a broken man. But Fuu was…different. For all the sins of stupidity she committed, for all her naivety and innocence, there was a bravery that guided her, the source of which he couldn't quite put his finger on. She brimmed with hope and kindness while he sagged beneath the weight of poisonous things.

"We got in this together…and hopefully we'll get out of it that way. Just don't leave me behind again, Mugen" she said, taking the chance of resting her forehead tiredly against his arm. Her need for physical contact sickened him, but her boldness was almost fascinating. How did she know that he wouldn't strangle her right here and now, violate her, leave her for dead out here? How did she find it in her heart to trust him like that?

Biting his lower lip a little, he gave in.

"Well, we ain't gettin' anywhere just standing here like this" he said, extracting his hand from hers as he trudged ahead.

Fuu yawned as she trailed behind, wondering if somewhere, somehow Jin was watching them, hopelessly wishing it could be his hand she had reached out to hold.


	22. Blue, The Duplicitous Hue

**Chapter 21- Blue, The Duplicitous Hue**

**X X X X**

He ate as he walked and he walked because, as luck would typically have it, there wasn't another choice. Since he had been unofficially appointed the office of Decision Maker, contact with other human beings was to be avoided as strictly as possible unless absolutely necessary. Of course, he didn't particularly care for the idea of subjecting himself to such restrictions, but he was in no mood to do any more thinking than he had to; they would both just have to deal. The aim of the game right now was simplicity, to not complicate matters further than they had already been. Despite his best efforts, Mugen ruminated once more over the circumstances he now faced. The whole thing was bad enough, sure, but that was partly because he didn't have just himself to worry about now. This fact secretly vexed him, like a fly that just wouldn't drop dead no matter how many times he swatted it. He had considered all sorts of options: attempting a more finely planned escape, convincing her (with brute force if need be) that continuing with him would only endanger her more, or just flat out ditching her and never looking back again. All of these possibilities were doable, assuming he could first figure out if any would be to his benefit. He might have come up with an answer ages ago if he hadn't first sworn himself to the simplicity rule, which meant not using up more brain cells than necessary. Although his body had responded well to the rest it received during their stay with Koza, his mind was a whole other story. It was disappointing to imagine that his quick wit- the very key to his survival -could one day fail him, that maybe there would come a time when brass balls and a sharp tongue alone wouldn't make a bad thing disappear. And this was a very bad thing.

Switching the gears of his mind to focus on less troubling thoughts, he came to realize just how awful the stuff he was chewing on tasted. If there had been any hope of finding something better to eat within the next hour or so, he would have gladly spit it out.

"What the hell did Koza tell you this was? Tastes like dog shit."

Fuu frowned, partly because of the ridiculous things that never ceased to spew from his mouth and partly because his voice had shattered her concentration on a rather large bird gliding overhead whose wing flaps she had decided to count out of sheer boredom.

"And you know the flavor of dog feces how, exactly? Not that I put a lot past you. And it's something called hoodia…we're supposed to save that for emergencies when there's nothing else to eat."

"Hmph, no wonder it tastes bad, it's funeral fare."

"It's what?"

"The stuff you're forced to eat when you're about four seconds from kickin' the bucket."

Fuu readjusted the bags she carried; one of the shoulder straps felt as if it was practically digging its way down to the bone.

"Then you might as well save the rest for another time because you don't look like you've been missing any meals lately" she replied, resenting each step taken with her burden.

This was already turning out to be a mistake. She had been given the perfect opportunity to be free of all this, to start over and make of her life whatever she pleased. She had been dealt a pretty lucky hand given the situation, and she had thrown it all away…for this. It was going to be a second full day of aimlessly wandering the desert (although they hadn't entirely abandoned civilization) and she could have laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. What was the point? Where were they even going? Where _could _they go?

"You know, this really makes no sense. Are we just going to keep blindly running like this forever or what? Because I'm starting to think that's what your big plan is."

For no reason other than pure agitation, Mugen savagely ripped another hunk of the noxious plant off with his teeth.

"First of all, ain't no way in hell I'm spendin' the rest of _my _life chained to an obnoxious little cunt. And second, if you got a better plan that doesn't involve landin' my ass behind bars, I'm all ears."

Fuu was caught between wanting to disregard the slur or letting it fester along with all those that came before it. It was moments like these that reminded her of what she was dealing with and that she would have to take better control over her actions and emotions than she had up to this point.

"I don't even know which is worse right now: this heat or your stupid mouth. You deserve to go mute…"

"Trust me, the feelin's mutual."

He inwardly shuddered somewhat at the realization that if anyone else had been present to observe their relentless bickering, they would have easily been the butt of jokes he preferred not to think about. It was for that reason and that reason alone that he mentally declared to himself he would refrain from feeding into her infantile outbursts from now on. A considerable challenge, but a necessary one.

_She has a point though, _he thought.

They were virtually trapped and he knew this, but he had never really allowed the thought to linger and mutate into actual concern. The only reason they were moving as freely as they had been was the general safety that came with traveling through some of the loneliest places the land had to offer. Places where the earth was abundantly vacant and the people were of a much simpler nature than he'd been accustomed to. They might have gotten away with simply staying put, but something urged him on, not allowing him to stop or look back if there was no need to do either. Whether it made sense or not, they would keep going. But why was there still a "they"? As a matter of fact, he'd been meaning to find out.

"So…" he began, folding both arms behind his head as he meandered ahead of her. Her unusual actions from the other night had left him in a rather confused state, and the more he thought about it the more it pissed him off. The fact that he had reacted at all pissed him off even more, and the fact that she was now capable of confusing _and_ pissing him off at the same time was just too much.

Fuu lifted her face to his direction now, anticipating whatever was going to follow that foretelling word. She stared into his back as if able to see through it, wondering if perhaps his heart fluttered nervously the way hers did when something unpleasant was about to happen.

"If you have something to say, just spit it out alright?" she muttered, a preemptive attack of sorts.

"Why did you follow me?" he asked in a surprisingly mellow voice, though she could still detect an underlying tone she didn't quite like.

The answer was far from clear, and the few pieces she did know could by no means be divulged. She wouldn't take another stupid risk like that again, but her inability to produce a response spoke louder than anything she could have said aloud.

"No idea, huh? Do you _always_ just do shit without thinkin' first?"

A bead of hot sweat rolled down her forehead until it rested just at the tip of her nose, causing an itch as equally uncomfortable as his line of questioning. Somehow the heat seemed as if it would begin choking her soon.

"Okay, let's try this one then. Why did you get all weird on me the other night? I mean Koza tried pullin' a stunt like that too, maybe you two are in heat or somethin'…"

"I didn't know we were practicing for an interrogation" Fuu said sharply, her lips pursed with annoyance.

"We're not, we're practicing for 'Let's stop bullshitting around and pretending we're in the fifth grade'. I mean you're what, fourteen, fifteen years old?"

"Actually I just turned seventeen, but of course you wouldn't know that because you're too busy being an arrogant prick."

"Seventeen? All the more reason for you to grow the hell up and start actin' your age then."

Had she not known any better, Fuu might have been convinced her ears needed checking. Hurling the load down to the parched Arizonan ground, she stood in disbelief.

"You're lecturing **ME **about maturity? Do you even hear yourself? You insult me every chance you get, you act like the whole world owes you something…you can't even show an _ounce_ of appreciation when someone offers you their help! It's like you're not even a human being, you only look like one on the surface but inside you're nothing but a putrefying mass of…._hate!_ I've never seen someone so unspeakably self-centered and…"

Her scathing sermon died midway as she audibly struggled to catch her breath. This normally would have been a perfect opportunity for him to shut her down, but her gasping stopped his tongue.

At last, after several awkward moments of rasping, Fuu ended her rant with three powerfully spoken words:

"_Fuck you_, Mugen."

It sounded so unnatural spilling from her lips, as if the girl had briefly channeled with a speaker of a foreign language.

Half impressed, he looked her over for a moment or two.

"You done?"

She breathed in angrily, exhaling quietly as she thought.

"Yes, I am. I'm also done carrying these," she said, gesturing to the bundles of food and other supplies at her feet.

"If you want to eat again, I suggest you bring them with you."

Just to spite her, he would have left them right where they sat. Experience had forced him to do the exact opposite though, and he roughly hauled the items up as he whispered obscenities under his breath. He paced up to her side as she marched forward, eyes focused straight ahead like a horse wearing blinders.

"I ain't done with you yet" he said, giving her a dirty sideways glance.

It was obvious that she was done with him, though. She was doing a fine job of pretending he no longer existed, as if she had gone deaf to his voice. He would have kept insisting, but a shrill sound cut through the dry, dusty air from a distance. It didn't seem to faze Fuu, so busy was she wallowing in her prolonged pout, but it was music to Mugen's ears.

"Looks like we got ourselves another train to catch."

* * *

The ride was a welcome relief from the oppressive weather beyond the metal behemoth they now found themselves in, but it wasn't without its tradeoffs. Fuu did her best to avoid being jostled around with the rest of the cargo, some of which had obviously been carelessly tossed into the freight car. She couldn't help but worry about the potential disasters that might befall them by using such a method of transportation; it had been all too easy to creep aboard while the crew was busy chatting, loading and refueling the noisy old monster. Its destination was anyone's guess.

She shifted around restlessly, unable to escape the poking and prodding of box corners. Very little light from the outside shone in, and this only added to the discomfort. Submitting to the futility of it all, she sighed and dropped her head back against one of the crates stacked behind her. Mugen sat several feet away, peering quietly through a rent in one of the wooden boxcar's walls; the sun had scarcely moved in the sky, determined to subject one and all to its abuse for as long as possible. The man ran tense fingers through his unkempt hair, roaming through the wilderness of his mind. It was impossible to tell if he was aware of the eyes now on him, the area cast in shadow save for a long shard of sunlight that stretched across his face like a golden scar.

She wanted to speak, but she couldn't. Although she knew she had every right to lash out earlier, it was difficult preventing the guilt from cropping up like scum from the bed of a lake. She wanted to ask if he had any idea where they were headed, but even he was in the dark on that one. The only thing left to do now was wait and see.

She longed for the absence of chaos. Even when everything around her was calm, she couldn't count on it to last very long because it never did. Even Jin, often the very model of serenity, had a certain quality about him that was permanently unsettled. Much like the female protagonists forever sealed in the pages of books she had read when there wasn't someone to pose for, she wished that there was a way to trade her life for someone else's: someone who always knew the right things to say, the right way to behave, the right choices to make. It was a little like the story of Tantalus, forever reaching for fruit he would never taste.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Fuu focused her eyes on the sliver of light that partially streaked past his lips as he spoke.

"You do things and then expect people to bail you out if you get into trouble. I've never done a damn thing that I didn't have to pay for all by myself. But not you, you just have all the luck in the world don't you?"

She looked away.

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about…"

"I think I have every idea."

"I never asked for your help!" she snapped defensively.

"No, but I bet you're glad I always seem to be around when you need it. And then you had the nerve to ask me to be your 'bodyguard' like you're somethin' so special. I've been one all along and haven't gotten shit in return. Nothin' but headaches I don't need."

The car trembled violently from a kink in the tracks, producing a short screech that made her senses tremor.

"I'm gonna ask again and I want an answer this time. Why do you want me around?"

He waited for a reply, but as expected, there wasn't one.

"And the silent treatment doesn't count either."

"What do you want me to say, Mugen? What are you so desperate to hear that you can't just drop it?"

He faced her slowly, the light now forming a bar across his eyes. They were stern and cold.

"I wanna know why you're still in my life. I wanna know why you're in it at all."

Shreds of memories played like a slideshow in his mind as he said this. He remembered, just barely, the brush of her fingers through his hair as he lay passed out from drinking himself to oblivion. When he practically let her use him as a pillow the night they fled LA. When she took it upon herself to take his hand in her own. Why?

She started to say something, paused, and a long sequence of stammers and sounds of frustration followed.

"Look I'm…I'm sorry about this…all of it. I wish it never happened. I wish that you could go back to whatever life you had before I came in to destroy it more than it already was…I just don't know what to do…"

She turned her face away in case she was unable to control her sadness, in case the darkness failed to conceal her pain.

"I don't know what to do…" she repeated, shaking her head.

"I didn't ask for all that."

He hated her for that. It killed him to be around someone who created such disorder in his very being. She was chipping at him faster than he could fill in the cracks, and he despised her for it. Things were good as long as he was in control, as long as he could predict and manipulate a situation to his liking. That wasn't the case with her.

"I never thought that this would happen…" she said, her voice deflated and empty.

"Whatever…just don't touch me anymore."

He looked down slightly to where both hands rested, crossed upon a bent knee. Even through the murk of the nearly absent light, the blue rings painting his wrists stood out brightly as if to taunt him. His face twisted in disgust.

_Two things would immediately become apparent to anyone who set foot in the home of Brunilda Delgado: first, the woman was a chain smoker and second, she seemed at odds with the concept of housework; a quaint Victorian-style exterior belied a cave that most animals would find intolerable. Only its owner and the resident German Shepherd seemed comfortable living among stacks of yellowed copies of People magazine and crusty soup containers. The basement, in contrast, was kept relatively clear and furnished due to its serving as a tattoo parlor, which generated an income decent enough to fund her foul habit. _

_Her young nephew, however, lived in constant dread of waking up one day to the house toppling around him in flames. It didn't matter that the lethal fumes she regularly emitted were destroying his lungs when all he could think about was roasting alive if she happened to fall asleep with a lit cigarette again. Luckily, the boy had learned to be vigilant, staying on guard to dispose of the despicable things whenever she fell into a deep slumber with one still pinched between her skeletal fingers. _

_One day he got fed up, though. _

_He had gotten the dog (twice his size but still meek enough to obey him) ready for her daily walk, something he had come to look forward to since it meant escaping the presence of the loathsome relative for at least a little while. Before setting out, he decided to check on her again in the event she had been snoozing since his last round. As expected, the woman lay sloppily atop her pompously ornamented mattress, the glowing tip of her cigarette dangerously close to meeting a sock dangling from a drawer of the nearby dresser._

_Automatically, he thrust a furious hand out to snatch it away from her, waking the woman in a start._

"_You ____little _**asshole**_!" she spat, squirming until she sat upright._

"_Why don't you just put these stupid things out before you do this? I'm sick of watching everything you do!" _

_The woman perched herself at the edge of the bed, a look in her eyes not unlike that of a lioness just before tackling her prey._

"_It's my house," she said casually._

"_And it's my fucking life!" he barked, smashing the cigarette into the wood of the dresser, scattering tiny glowing specks onto its surface._

_Instead of reacting immediately, she laughed. _

"_Your life, eh?" she echoed, reaching into the half opened drawer to retrieve a fresh pack of smokes. She took her time opening it, lighting another cigarette as she took several long drags. At last she faced him, the whites of her eyes long ago replaced by a watery mustard color. _

"_What about my sister's life?"_

_Mugen's face crinkled slightly at the mention of his mother. _

"_That was an accident…" he mewled. _

"_So were you. I loved my sister…so much. But you took her from me…" she said, nodding her head menacingly. Her artificially blonde hair was plastered to her sweating forehead, causing it to spike in various directions._

"_You took her. But I took you in. And I don't even know what the fuck for."_

_With the same uncanny speed of his mother, she was on her feet and towering above him. She squeezed his face in her hand, her false fuchsia nails burying themselves into his cheeks. _

"_If you didn't have her eyes…I'd __**fuckin**__' put you down myself," she croaked. _

"_I'm sorry" he whimpered softly, his face turning numb. He didn't know what else he could possibly say and he wanted nothing more than to be dismissed now._

"_Oh you're sorry? Nah, you ain't sorry. But you will be…by the sweet Lord above, you will be."_

_She closed the door, locking it as if someone would walk in uninvited otherwise. _

_There wouldn't be any need to worry about someone overhearing his screams; the room was located high up on the third floor towards the back of the house and just about everyone who mattered would be away at work around this hour. At first she toyed with him like a cat batting around a dead little mouse, a few hard slaps to make him bleed. When she realized that it would take more to make him cry, she tried wire hangers and old clotheslines. When that failed, she stripped him. It was at this point that he worked up the nerve to fight her, but she made short work of his audacity when hot tobacco met his flesh, branding him again and again._

_Even then, that wasn't the worst she could cook up. The rest took the better part of the next hour and whatever was left of his childhood. Although she delighted in dealing the occasional beating, it was this brand of torture she enjoyed inflicting most of all. It would continue every few nights, sometimes lasting in longer or shorter sessions depending on how satisfied the man that came around for her every so often would leave her. It turned his stomach to imagine anyone voluntarily lying down with something so vile. _

_When she was finally finished defiling him, she resumed smoking, staring at herself in the mirror of her vanity table as if in admiration of what she had just done. _

_Loud scratching from behind the door startled Mugen; he was hunched in a human ball at the side of her bed, too stunned to bother dressing himself. He could scarcely breathe from the shameful sobbing he had been reduced to. His nose was so stopped up he was forced to inhale through his mouth, which he did carefully as if she would no longer notice him there if he could just remain quiet._

_The dog whined and let out a single bark._

"_Put your fuckin' pants back on. And stop crying, you keep crying like that and people will start thinkin' you're queer. Ya might just want yourself a girlfriend someday and ain't no woman gonna want a man she has to mop tears off of."_

_Although it took considerable effort, he lifted himself just enough to reach for a scrap of clothing that had been tossed onto the radiator. The shirt was warm and felt indescribably wonderful as he held it to his body. He pressed his face against it gently, pretending he was huddled close to someone whose first instinct wouldn't be to cause him harm. For the moment, he didn't hurt as long as the warmth of this shirt could comfort him. _

"_You ever hear what they did to the Jews?" _

_She was still standing, partially seated on the edge of the vanity table. The cigarette a mere stub now as she held it to her lips for one last drag._

"_They marked 'em. They gave 'em numbers, you know, before they sent them out to them prison camps. What you think about that, boy?"_

_When he failed to respond, she smiled diabolically._

"_How about we have a little history lesson then? My needles ain't been put to good use for a while anyway. We're gonna be a little more creative than some boring old numbers."_

_She gave him the gift of permanent shackles instead._

"I don't really know why, but I guess I kind of just…feel safe around you" Fuu said with mild uncertainty.

He didn't seem to hear her; he was still facing the wall, playing with the hem of his pant leg.

"Wanna know how I know what dog shit tastes like?"

Fuu's eyes widened. She didn't even want to hear him continue, but she didn't dare interrupt.

"My aunt had this dog, huge ass mutt. I liked her though, she was a good dog. It was my job to feed her, walk her. I never minded it…kept me sane. Well one day I didn't pick up her mess quick enough…"

Fuu drew a hand to her mouth.

He blinked once, swallowing as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"Dunno what woulda killed me first, all the cleaning solutions I tried downing or the pukin' I did the rest of that night."

She tried allowing the rumble of the tracks to fill her mind so she wouldn't have to picture what she just heard. Repulsion rose into her throat as she stared, unblinking, at him. Surely he was inventing this to mess with her. She felt a great temptation to delve for more, to find out more, but things were better off as they were right now. He had allowed her this one small glimpse into his private world, one of ugliness she had lived completely ignorant of. He was indeed a mystery, as it turned out, but not one that needed solving. He couldn't be solved. She shuddered to think what other secrets he kept locked away.

"Why did you tell me this…"

It wasn't a question but a statement of disillusion.

"What, you think worse things haven't happened? What kinda rock have _you_ been livin' under?"

He looked at her again, his coal-colored eyes tracing her silhouette.

"I should've killed the bitch."

He spoke with such conviction that she didn't even have to doubt the authenticity of that sentiment.

* * *

She had grown tired of counting each stop. Bathroom breaks were meticulously planned and at times impossible to accomplish if the risk of missing a departure was too high. No further conversation took place between the two strangers for several days, each killing time in their own respective dimensions. She replayed random snippets of moments long past in her mind's eye, wondering if Mugen did the same. Did he think of her when he had left her stranded to fend for herself those few short months? Did he hate her and if so, why had he saved her from Jin? She might ask if he ever decided to wake up.

_Haru ga kita  
Haru ga kita  
Doko ni kita?  
Yama ni kita  
Sato ni kita  
No ni mo kita_

_(Spring is coming, spring is coming,  
Where is spring now?  
Here in the mountains,  
Here in the village,  
And here in the fields)_

At first the tune was lost to her, leaving only fragments that didn't quite fit together when she hummed them. She practiced persistently, discouraged that she could have forgotten such a simple little song in such a short time. Delicate pink petals rained in the recesses of her memory, their scent mild and promising a vibrant spring.

_Hana ga saku  
Hana ga saku  
Doko ni saku?  
Yama ni saku  
Sato ni saku  
No ni mo saku_

_(Flowers bloom, flowers bloom,  
Where do flowers bloom?  
Here in the mountains,  
Here in the village,  
And here in the fields)_

Someone had made a kimono just for her, its color rivaling the very flowers it mimicked.

_Tori ga naku  
Tori ga naku  
Doko de naku?  
Yama de naku  
Sato de naku  
No de mo naku_

_(Birds are singing, birds are singing,  
Where do birdies sing?  
Here in the mountains,  
Here in the village,  
And here in the fields)_

She sang her little song cheerfully, gaining confidence as it flowed smoothly this time without the abrupt stops and mistakes she had riddled it with over and over before. It was a very short ditty, but she repeated it enough times to extend it into a small concert. She remained unaware of her one-man audience.

His back was turned, his body a black blob across from her in the fading evening light. He had woken up some time ago and had it in mind to take a good long piss behind the nearest barrel, but instead remained still to listen to her sing. It was almost like something pulled straight from a fairytale, the kinds featuring chaste young girls befriending forest creatures as they serenaded birds perched upon their fingers. No birds flittered in this wooden cage, though. No deer peeking from behind bushes or squirrels scampering up trees. Only Fuu's pipsqueak voice in the dark.

"I'd give ya a standing ovation but it was a bit overkill after the three-hundredth time."

She pretended not to hear the remark, switching to a soft hum instead.

"What's it supposed to mean anyway?" he asked, suppressing his interest.

"It's an old folk song my dad and grandma would sing to my little cousins and I every spring when we lived in Japan."

"It's the middle of February…"

"Close enough for me. It's never too early for springtime. Do you like it?" she asked hopefully.

"Do I like what?"

"The song."

"S'alright…"

She allowed herself a small smile, knowing he wouldn't be able to catch her doing so. Stretching out to relieve her back from all the sitting she had done for the past few hours, she relocated to a different spot for the sake of novelty.

"When do you think we'll finally get off this thing?" she complained.

"Eh, soon. One more night and I might lose it. Plus I'm sick of waiting for a stop just to-"

"Don't say it…just spare me the detail," she interrupted.

So he did, instead feeling around for one of the bags Koza had sent them off with, hopefully containing those crunchy seedy things neither of them knew the name of.

Fuu bit her lip anxiously. Well, he was awake now.

"Can I ask you something?" she ventured.

"Dunno, can you?"

She sighed.

"You know, not every sentence you speak has to be sarcastic. It got old a long time ago."

"Yeah yeah, get on with it…"

The bag's contents clinked and clanked from inside as he pawed through them.

"Why did you protect me from Jin? Why did you even go after me to begin with?"

Realizing the search was fruitless without adequate light, he shoved the bag aside and shuffled to his other side.

"I asked a few questions of my own the other day and couldn't get a single answer outta ya. What makes you better than me?"

"Nothing makes me better than you, I just…want to know. Please."

A whistle boomed around them, signaling the end of the current leg of their journey.

"About friggin' time!" he shouted, snatching their parcels together in a hurry, preparing to make their exit just as soon as they came to a halt. They rolled on for what felt like at least another hundred feet.

"Mugen…" she pressed.

Rolling his eyes, he lapsed into a moment of quiet thought. Scenes tore through his mind in swift succession, eventually stopping at another succinct memory of a child that lived on in another time and place not very separate from this one. A child who was scurrying into the kitchen for paper towels to absorb the blood that poured from his nose because he had failed to fold a bed sheet properly.

He faced her, seeming graced with a sudden kiss of sagacity.

"You reminded me of somebody I knew a while back who needed help that never came. That's why I did it."

* * *

**A/N: **I just wanted to make a brief note about the title of this chapter. Blue has several meanings, one of which describes something lewd or otherwise sexually distasteful. I'm sure the true meaning of the title will become apparent with that fact in mind. Also, the song that Fuu sings in this chapter is entitled "Haru ga Kita" (Spring is Coming). It's a very sweet, addictive little song that I recommend you give a listen to :)


	23. Pictures of the Floating World

**Chapter 22- Pictures of the Floating World**

**X X X X**

_You will have questions. I hope the answers lie below._

_I know these words will not find you under good circumstances. No doubt you are asking what caused your wife to do something so unexpected, so utterly insane. But in reality I've deceived you, and that is only one more reason I can no longer put up with myself. I am telling you these things plainly now, as I should have done from the very beginning. As I write this, I think back to all of the moments that might have been the right time to tell you that I was a mother once. Now you know the true reason I could never give you the children you so earnestly wanted. But how could I possibly bring another life into existence when I abandoned the first? I can't forget her face, Katsuro. Her voice has haunted me every day and kept me ill. You were also unaware that I belonged to someone else before you._

_ I deserted my first husband, a dying man, and left him to care for our little daughter because I was too young and weak to see either of them through. Last night I received a call informing me that my child has gone missing and the man responsible for her no longer exists. The hate in my former brother-in-law's voice as he told me this was frightening, but nothing I can blame him for. She's been gone for months yet I'm only just hearing of it. So far no one has made any progress locating her and I fear they never will…you know how these things always turn out. I can't live another day with what I've done and any reasonable person would agree that I don't deserve to. I can't continue on knowing that my daughter could be suffering without her mother there to protect her, to soothe her and dry the tears that all girls cry at different moments of their lives, all moments I chose to miss, and now I have no hope of repairing that. _

_She has been a world away from me for so long, and although I want nothing more now than to find my little girl and hold her again, I wouldn't even have the faintest idea where to begin. And if by some miracle we could reunite, I wouldn't know how to face her because my shame would never allow it. And you are a good man deserving of a good woman, a description that unfortunately I don't fulfill. Don't think that I haven't carefully considered every detail, every option. Certainly I would have made a different choice had there been one; sometimes passing away is the only road to freedom and what quality of life would either of us have if I stayed? Would you have forgiven me? Such is your nature, but that sort of kindness is above me. This is not a situation that can be remedied, not even by my absence…but I must do this for my own sake, which I am so very used to worrying about by now._

_ My first husband was quite a devout Christian and now I find that some of that doctrine has finally rubbed off on me, though a bit last minute it seems. If there is in fact some Supreme Being watching over us all then I hope that it is He who spares me some clemency because I'm about to add another sin to the list. I don't want to write anything more except to ask that I be allowed this one last act of cowardice so that others can be spared the pain I have inflicted on the very people I was supposed to cherish. Although it may now be difficult to believe, I do love you dearly._

_Her name is Fuu._

_-Shizue_

So read the hastily scribbled letter a confused and grieving man skimmed for perhaps the third time before he could muster the will to call for the retrieval of his wife's body, which slumped eerily at the kitchen table as if frozen in a permanent nap. The couple had been preparing for a fairly lavish trip to Okinawa to patch up their shaky relationship, threatened by long hours away at his highly successful teahouse and by her see-saw bouts of depression. At last he knew its source, but it was knowledge cruelly learned, for there was nothing that he or anyone could do now for his poor wife except ensure a proper cremation. She must have taken the opportunity while he was tied up on the phone with business calls and accepting a spur of the moment reservation for an especially affluent (and courageous) diner who would be visiting later tonight, demanding nothing less than the best dish of _fugu _his staff could offer_. _He had handpicked the lethal fish himself and brought it home to begin the painstaking task of cutting just the right parts in just the right quantity, a skill he had mastered through rigorous practice but one he would only undertake within the walls of his own home where concentration was much easier to achieve without the hustle and bustle of a busy restaurant.

He tore his eyes from the characters inscribed on the paper he held, breaking free from their spell and looked helplessly to the body beside him as he remained fixed to the immaculately polished floor of their loft. Her lips, tinged a telltale blue, narrated her actions so that he didn't even need to check the refrigerator to confirm his fears. Yet he did anyway, discovering the bare stoneware plate that should have held the organs he had specifically set aside to avoid contaminating the few edible parts of the fish. He wept harder at this realization, wondering why she had chosen to expire in such a way and despising himself for not putting two and two together sooner. At the moment he couldn't have cared less if there was a girl out there who was the product of a secret past he only just learned about; the coming days would now be spent planning a memorial and not the precious time together they had so sorely lacked during a marriage that ended all too suddenly.

From that point forward, the cursed fish would be irrevocably erased from the menu.

* * *

_February 13th, 2007_

_I never thought I would be writing one of these. It feels kind of weird, jotting down events as if they're actually important enough for anyone to read. I can't think of a single person who would be interested in anything I have to say, but I guess that's the point isn't it? To have a private place to record at least some of my thoughts (though I'm not sure how private they'll stay since the guy I've been traveling with has boundary issues). So that's it then, from now on I'll just write down whatever's on my mind because there isn't anything better to do except sneak and hide and worry. You get tired of all three after a while._

_Today we arrived at a different town, probably leaving Jin and all of those other bad memories behind in California, which is hopefully miles and miles away now. I don't know why, but sometimes I still think of him and feel sad even though he turned on me in a way I never thought possible. I might not show it, but he left me feeling so small. Like all I want to do is find a hole to hide in and forget there's a world I once belonged to. It's funny what another person can do to you, how much power they can hold in just a few moments of demented rage._

_But I'm getting way off track. The point is that I'm in a strange new place (again) and really want to know where, but that will be hard since we're not supposed to interact with people as much anymore. It's crowded here and I can tell it's making Mugen nervous because of the way his jaw jerks to the side like he's busy planning his next move…or picking out the easiest target to rob from the groups of people shopping for tomorrow, who knows._

_So this turned out to be a crappy first diary entry, huh? Or journal, maybe. I think that sounds a little classier. After all, I'm not a little kid anymore._

Fuu reviewed the things she had just penned, disappointed that although she had never been one blessed with a talent for words, these few paragraphs seemed utterly lackluster. She began to wonder why she had even bothered buying the thing to begin with, though at the time it seemed like a good idea. There had been an especially slow day back at the general store and the book, with its attractive turquoise binding and gold leaf accents, had caught her eye from its place stacked along with others of its kind upon a lonely old shelf no one ever gave the time of day to. She had originally planned to use it as an archive of sorts for recording important information as needed, but the thought of keeping a personal log of her experiences seemed more appealing and quickly laid that idea to rest.

Hoping Mugen wouldn't catch her by surprise, she slipped the book back into the safety of her little shoulder bag (a corner of which was already beginning to unravel) and waited. She was told to stay put while he scoped the place out, but after a good four hours- or so she estimated -how much more scoping did he need to do? She decided not to let worry get the best of her this time, instead allowing herself to enjoy sporadic sessions of people watching.

It was a forest of red and pink. A classic scene of hearts and greeting cards, roses of all sizes and varieties, boxes of chocolates and hyperbolically large stuffed animals bearing sappy sentiments. Vendors heralded price cuts that would be ending soon if buyers didn't hurry to relieve them of their goods. Shoppers passed along, some speaking with bumpkinly accents and others engaged in graceful, flowing conversations that rekindled her memory.

She was reminded of her first and only visit to Marseilles, where she and Jin were obligated to attend an exceptionally stuffy dinner party held in honor of a few of the more notable icons of French pop culture at the time. It was unknown precisely why their presence was necessary, though she had overheard one of the hosts praise Jin for the wildly popular Ukiyo-e campaign they had held over the summer as an effort to "return to UIMA's roots", which involved a simple but lucrative hobby of painting pretty neighborhood girls during a time when Jin's father- humbly acknowledging but not quite embracing his samurai heritage -often struggled to feed his small family. She remembered the delicacy with which the artist painted her figure, making what would have otherwise been an erotic piece one that was satisfying to the male eye without attracting unwanted accusations.

"_Backwards Beauty"_, he had announced with quiet satisfaction as he admired his work.

It would become the single most recognized image of Fuu: a mysterious young woman looking back at the viewer with a vaguely forlorn look in her eyes, her kimono drooped delicately below the shoulder as she stood surrounded by the warmth of infinite sunflowers. The result was a motley product blending past and present, Asian simplicity with a touch of European flair.

She remembered the way Jin looked at her later that evening, no doubt quietly contemplating the painting as they both watched the night unfold before them like two pigeons roosting high up someplace human eyes would never find them. It was one of the rare occasions he was caught dressed down, wearing a simple outfit consisting of nothing more than a layered button-down shirt and conservative black denim. It was funny how this was the only casual ensemble he seemed capable of putting together.

Something else had been on his mind though, and it almost seemed that he was ready to share but stopped himself before he could. Knowing what she knew now, it was probably the moment he would have painfully fumbled through the process of asking her to be his wife. A child bride, no less. Such a thing had about as much a chance of flying in court as a proposal to legalize public nudity, but Jin had many friends in high places and it wouldn't have been too far fetched if her father's plan had actually wound up succeeding. In the end, though, he contented himself with having a quiet moment with her that wasn't encroached by the nonsense and drama that filled most other days.

"_Hm…if only we had been fortunate enough to attend this event in a place like Paris. Nothing compares to the nightscape of that city. I think it would bring a smile even to your face, Fuu."_

_The girl huffed softly, watching as fireworks soared into the heavens and impressed the crowd far below with their colorful display. Some sort of concert was taking place by the pier._

"_Don't be a hypocrite, you're about as serious as a tax collector at a funeral. What would you know?"_

_He looked down thoughtfully to the glass of wine in his hand, barely emptied since it had been served well over twenty minutes ago._

"_Sometimes even the worst of us can."_

"_Us?"_

_He took a few drops of the lukewarm liquid._

"_People like me. The kind you perceive as having no joy in their lives at all. Sometimes even we can smile; you probably just miss when we do."_

She rubbed her eyes, feeling sleepy after waiting so long doing nothing. The afternoon waned, giving way to dusk as couples walked hand in hand with their sugary, fluffy loot. She observed them with mild yearning, wishing someone would be kind enough to do something like that for her. She would have happily accepted even a blade of grass if it was given with some form of affection.

"What's up with you?"

Fuu jolted and glared irritably at the hooded figure that had somehow materialized beside her.

"I've been sitting here like an idiot waiting for you, that's what's up with me."

A hand emerged from the pouch that spanned the front of Mugen's latest fashion acquisition to scratch his finely stubbled chin.

"What are you wearing _this _time?" she grumbled.

"Just a little somethin' I picked up. Not my color but beggars can't be choosers. Well, scratch that, I actually wound up buyin' it off of the guy if you can believe it."

Fuu inspected the hoodie, which displayed a fierce tiger's head and the abbreviation _LSU _across the torso.

"And you felt the need to waste what little money we have left on this _why_? It's probably crawling with lice or something**.**"

"Good, they'll keep mine some company."

She stared dismally at him, hardly in the mood for wise cracks. All she wanted right now was a good meal, a decent place to sleep, and a long hot bath if it was in the cards for her.

"Look, I'm not gonna keep parading around lettin' the whole world get a clear look at my mug. And you're plain enough as it is, you'll be fine as long as you stay that way and since there ain't a single fashion outlet in sight my guess is that you will."

"Whatever…did you at least find out where we are? Tell me you managed that much."

He turned his face away as an older gentleman strolled by, appearing to have a rather difficult time carrying an unwieldy pink gorilla that announced its love for him whenever he accidentally pressed its tummy.

"Nope."

"Then what were you doing all this time ? !"

He ignored this, instead moving right along to the point.

"I found us a spot to crash for the night, but we're gonna be doin' things a little differently from now on. You see that seafood place way down there?" he asked, pointing off into the distance across the street where a shoddy excuse for an eatery took up most of the block, a giant mechanical crab waving its legs sluggishly above the entrance.

"There's a park right behind it and some woods further down. Meet me there, but if you're gonna bitch about it you can stay right here on this bench for all I care. So, see ya around then."

And that was all. He turned and took off, nimbly picking his way through a busy street as people rushed home for romantic candlelight dinners and pre-Valentine's Day nookie.

* * *

The walk wound up taking longer than expected. The park's location was in fact not "right behind" the restaurant but about five or six blocks northeast of it. Why couldn't he have picked a better time to split up like this? The lapse in communication resulted in an unnecessary (and unwanted) tour of several neighboring streets that felt anything but welcoming. On the way, someone reclining on the porch of one of the dull, ubiquitous row homes had watched the girl with keen interest as she trotted by as if in recognition. This made Fuu all the more anxious, causing her to pick up the pace and finally disappear around the next corner. Only then did she realize she had been holding her breath the entire time and tried to shake the eerie reminder of an old graveyard superstition.

And at last the hike was over. She crossed a small, vacant road as streetlamps began to illuminate one by one, two celestial bodies sharing the sky for a few fleeting moments before day submitted to its shadowy sibling. She tried to hide the tiny smirk that came to her face as she approached Mugen, who had apparently been occupying himself with the monkey bars; long limbs propelled him from one metal beam to the next as he showed off for invisible spectators.

Edging quietly away to avoid a wayward shoe to the face, she seated herself at the foot of an old slide that jutted out like a long silver tongue from the wooden tower overseeing the assortment of equipment dotting the area. Even in the light of the freshly risen moon, it was clear that the thing had seen better days.

"I hope you're not serious," she said, surveying everything with both doubt and curiosity.

He effortlessly swung forward before hoisting himself up between the bars and crawling across them with feline stealth, peering at her from above; a long arm dangled lazily to the side as he lay against them.

"It's as good a place as any."

She explored the place with her eyes, questioning how much protection they would receive from being detected in such a blatantly public place. It was a considerably large park, abundant with trees and providing a picnic area further off, probably serving as a brief refuge for parents from the mayhem of children at play. She watched the swings stir from a mild breeze as it passed through, making her skin tingle.

"I don't see anything that's going to keep us hidden overnight."

"And that's where you'd be wrong" he scoffed, as if having privileged access to knowledge far beyond her comprehension. He slinked back to the ground with a thump and made his way around the rear of the colossal jungle gym. The sound of wood scraping against wood roused Fuu's interest and she rose to find out just what it was he had discovered.

She was met with a peculiar sight: a virtually invisible safe house. The interior was fairly well lit from thin gaps between each plank, the ground carpeted by the same fine gravel as the rest of the area. Their belongings sat lined along the back wall and in the center lay a relatively large plastic bag, the contents of which she was eager to learn.

"How did you…?"

"Save it and get in already, will ya?"

Crouching low to avoid hitting her head, she realized upon entering that there was more than enough room inside for her to stand comfortably. He swiftly followed, securing the makeshift door with a crudely devised lock consisting of carved holes and scrap rope. Once assured of the door's fortitude, he sat and pulled the mystery bag over, not giving her a chance to even ask what was inside. Luckily she wouldn't need to; in moments she was relieved to find a white foam container plopped in front of her, waiting for her to open it like the treasure chest that it was.

"Food!" she exclaimed with joy, flipping the lid open to reveal the feast inside. She didn't bother inquiring what anything was, more than satisfied by the divine aroma and even greater flavor as she got down to the serious business of filling her stomach.

"God this is good" she moaned blissfully between mouthfuls, her cheeks puffed much like a squirrel elated with its acorn.

"Pretty eager, arncha?" he remarked, somewhat entertained by the little spectacle.

"This is the best thing I've tasted in a _long_, long time. Where did you get it?" she mumbled, grains of rice and chunks of bell pepper escaping her mouth as she shoveled more food into it.

"Some mom 'n pop joint…"

He felt a terribly strong temptation to reveal the identity of one of the less desirable ingredients of her meal, but it was unlikely she would touch the food upon learning this and he wasn't about to deal with someone who brought her own illness upon herself over a few stupid sensitivities. He had to admit though, the way she gobbled things up as if today was her last was kinda cute in an unfeminine sort of way.

"This is way better than that fancy crap I had to choke down just to maintain my weight" she spoke again, this time attacking the prawns poking out from their hiding places in the remaining mound of rice.

"I'd like to see ya alone with a fully stocked fridge then, you'd probably blow up like a whale" he quipped, picking the lid from a cup of what might have been some type of stew while he helped himself to a biscuit. Fuu, having already inhaled her own serving now, stared intensely as he did this. Whatever he had over there smelled too good to be true.

Well aware of what she was doing, he ate quietly, pretending to take no notice; sharing was _not_ one of his strong points. There was a loud organic rumble. He briefly darted his attention from the food to her hungry eyes. Why was she still at it? Greedy bitch.

Knowing he wouldn't volunteer and not daring to ask, Fuu reexamined her carton, frowned, and picked at the few remaining crumbs to be found there. Her stomach growled once more and she sighed, almost inaudibly. Time to think about something else.

Something about this unlikely shelter felt oddly cozy, like a private treehouse without the tree. It could have done with a few extra touches, or something soft to sleep on at the very least, but as she sat there silently absorbing the environment's unique ambience, she realized that this was the type of place she could probably have made a permanent residence of and lived happily in its stark simplicity. In fact, it smacked somewhat of Koza's home, only the melancholic undertones felt there were absent. She imagined a little fire crackling between them, perfecting everything. Even him.

Their eyes happened to meet for the briefest moment, perhaps by chance or perhaps by necessity, before seeking out other sights that would bring less discomfort to both parties. After a few more seconds, Fuu finally decided it was time to call it a night. Setting down the bag containing her newly authored chronicles, Fuu adjusted the improvised pillow beneath her head many times before she found a position suitable enough to allow rest. The book's surface was hard against her skull, but it would have to be that way from now on; she would need to guard it with far greater care than she had done with the money earlier. Eventually she grew still, showing her back to the feasting man behind her who for some reason could no longer be heard chewing, gulping, or slurping after a while.

He was doing something far quieter, in fact: thinking. About her. About the irony of night and how it changed him, influencing him to gradually become something he was not. Gradually, but not inevitably. Not if he could help it.

Of course, she hadn't fallen asleep yet. That wouldn't be possible for a while, but conscious repose was better than nothing and certainly better than feeling like a nuisance. At length something stirred softly behind her, ending with a sharp scrape as it tapped against her back.

"Mugen, what-"

What indeed.

He stretched, causing various bones and ligaments to pop and crackle as if his innards were composed of bubble wrap. Afterwards, he settled onto his back and closed his eyes, though he would have kept them open a while longer had he not disturbed his towermate.

"Take it. I was done anyway."

Bewildered, she investigated the small stack of containers next to her; the food inside had gone mostly uneaten.

* * *

Little voices screamed and shouted. If they hadn't been so sound asleep they might have squinted from their covert abode to watch as the playground came to life. Swings moved with vigor they lacked the previous night, today carrying the boisterous bodies of children who knew this was the closest they would come to flight. The slide, the one that should have been retired centuries ago, stood patiently as one belly or rear end after the other coasted down its tired metal length. Not to be forgotten, the wheel sitting about ten or twelve feet away was busy at work making its passengers dizzy as they spun away into a happy realm.

The two remained ignorant of all this activity until someone (or multiple someones) had taken it upon themselves to gallop a herd of horses above their heads. At least, that's how it felt and sounded. Though both had been abruptly robbed of precious sleep, it was Fuu who took it badly. It was nothing new to Mugen.

"Try wakin' up to two dudes knifing the shit out of each other over a porno mag. This is nothing" he consoled, yawning as he rose to see what all the clamor was about.

Fuu chewed her lip, her heart pounding so hard she was certain it would burst straight out of her body soon if she didn't relax. Loud giggling and chatter reverberated all around them and someone dared a friend to climb to the very top of the great wooden structure. Casually, Mugen peeked between the boards above.

"Wonder if any of those little booger munchers has some cash on them," he muttered to himself, loudly enough for Fuu to overhear.

"We are _not _stealing from kids!" she whispered hotly.

"Pfft, they'll just waste it on stupid shit like gum and Pokémon cards anyway."

"Well that's their parents' problem, not ours!"

He frowned deeply, stepping away from the ceiling of their little hovel and turning to face her. Casting a dour gaze down at the girl, he leaned against the wall closest to her.

"Why do you gotta be so goddamn righteous, huh? You workin' towards sainthood or something?"

Hugging her knees to her chest, she shrugged lightly and shook her head.

"I just try to do the right thing."

A shriek sounded above, melting into laughter as a spontaneous game of tag was initiated. Feet pounded and shuffled in a mad frenzy for a few seconds before finally relieving the squatters below of their presence.

"I try to do the right thing too: for _me_. If you think anybody's thinkin' about you when they make their choices, you're dead wrong. There's no random sucker out there asking himself 'Gee, I wonder if what I'm about to do is gonna hurt somebody?' He just goes right ahead and does it. Wake up."

Nothing more was spoken for some time, both seeming more interested in having a closer listen to the happenings outside. They must have barely been out of elementary school, their collective jabbering gradually becoming white noise as it receded into the background. Fuu watched Mugen watch them, his forehead now pressed into the arm propped against the dusty old wood their shelter consisted of. He was contemplative and gloomy again, exactly as he had been just the other day.

"You wish you could be out there with them, right?"

Somehow those words sent a shiver through him.

"The hell you flappin' about…" he grunted softly, perhaps not realizing that he still had not moved an inch from where he was standing.

She checked beneath her to verify that the book was still there, and thought carefully to herself as she decided what words to speak next. It wasn't easy putting him on the spot, but something had to get through to him one way or the other.

"I'm just saying that you don't need to keep hiding things or putting on acts. You like being so tough to figure out, but the harder you try the easier it is to see right through you."

She wasn't sure where this pluck of hers was coming from, but part of her was enjoying it and she wasn't about to step down as easily as she had done in the past.

His back was still turned to her, but the open hand that had been splayed against the wall he was leaning against was now a tightly balled fist.

"You don't say anything because you know I'm right."

"Shut up," he warned between clenched teeth.

A pair of adult voices chimed out from the merry din outside, ordering what were probably some stragglers from the group not to wander too far from sight.

"Why? Because you can't handle being told the truth? That's how you deal with something you don't like? You try and command it to go away just because you want to feel-"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" he bellowed, slamming his waiting fist into the wall behind her, mere inches from her head. Their faces almost touching, she shivered inside as his hot breath washed over her skin. His eyes penetrated hers with flaming intensity. His wild pants were those of an infuriated bull. He clenched his eyes shut, biting his lip as his head dropped low. They were both listening again, each secretly hoping no one had heard. They listened as a maddening hush ensued around them for several long moments, voices quietly murmuring amongst themselves. It wouldn't have been much of a shock if someone a few blocks down had heard him.

"You want to hit me?" she whispered softly; it was more like an offer and not a question asked out of fear. His face softened at this, but he looked far from pleased. Wisps of air blew her bangs aside as his breathing slackened and his expression transformed into what might have been something along the lines of humiliation. He searched her face, stopping briefly at her lips before forcing himself to look her in the eye once more.

"No…I don't wanna hit you. Just…never do that again."

She blinked twice, the only interruption to the sustained staring now occurring between them. He wanted to apologize, it was obvious. She might have wanted to do the same, too. Why was it that every time she tried to make a promise to herself she always wound up finding a way to break it? A tiny hand approached his face, and for the faintest second he welcomed it. Just as her fingertips were about to make contact though, he flinched away. Not even a willful reaction but an instinctual one.

"What I tell you about that?" he said calmly, eyes flicking to the ground.

At this proximity, Fuu could smell the lingering ghost of cologne that imbued the sweatshirt he wore, a memento of its previous owner. It was easy to pretend the scent belonged to him instead, so she sat there quietly breathing him in, pretending the previous events had not just transpired.

Sighing, he rose and took to his side of their enclosure, waiting for nightfall again.

* * *

_February 20th, 2007_

_It's really been seven whole days since I last bothered to write something down here. I guess I just haven't been up to it lately, or maybe nothing interesting has happened until today. For the first time in over a week we actually got to stay outside for a while and stretch our legs a bit. Everyone is celebrating Mardi Gras, which I'm a little embarrassed to say I never knew much about before even though I've lived in this country for a long time now. Apparently people dress up in weird, colorful costumes and party all day and night- kind of hard to believe this is a holiday with religious roots when you think about it._

_Mugen managed to get us masks to blend in with everyone else at the parade, which was great because we got to eat all we wanted without worrying about anyone giving us trouble. I'm beginning to wonder if we really are being hunted the way Mugen insists, though. I hate to think he's starting to go paranoid._

_Anyway, the festival turned out to be pretty fun after all (unless you count all the drunk people and the fist fight that broke out at one point). This is probably the most interesting place I've been to in America and it makes me want to try and visit all fifty states one day when I'm free of all this baggage currently weighing me down. When that day comes, I'll make sure to see them all and meet as many people as I can._

_Oh, and call me crazy, but this creepy tall guy seemed to always show up wherever we went. He was masked like the rest of us so it was impossible to tell what he looked like, but he said hello to me once with an accent I can't quite recognize…definitely European though. Really hope he isn't some kind of stalker or worse yet, an undercover investigator. I don't think Mugen took much notice of him though; he was too busy stealing whatever wasn't nailed down and stuffing that giant kangaroo pouch of his with heaven knows what._

_I wasn't going to write about this before, but he really lashed out the other day. I guess I can't complain about it too much since I provoked it, but the way he looked…it was like I crushed part of him. I don't know why we can't just get along…we fight constantly. I never even went through this with Jin come to think of it. But night and day have more in common than those two, so there's no comparison there. I just wish I knew how to deal with him. The right words to say to him so maybe he could stop being so angry at the world and just be a human being for once. That isn't any way to live, is it? To face each day hating yourself and everything around you, waiting for the next sun to rise just to repeat the whole cycle all over again? I can't be nice or mean to the guy…nothing works. I know we could be friends if he would just let me try._

_But that's never going to happen._

* * *

**Chapter Notes**

xxxx

**Fugu- **Blowfish/Pufferfish; considered a delicacy in Japan but highly toxic and fatal if not prepared correctly.

**Ukiyo-e - **a popular style of Japanese art featured in the original series; prominent examples include the work of Hokusai. Literal translation: "pictures/images of the floating world"


	24. Inertia

**Chapter 23- Inertia**

**X X X X**

"So you're telling me that this thug has been floating around for _three months_ and _no one_, not one soul in this entire division, has had the balls to get out there and catch this lowlife?"

The office was at a standstill, every pair of eyes from every cubicle affixed on the stout man standing in the midst of them all, challenging the competence of everyone from the secretary on up. He was a practical man, a man of action and hardly one to take his job (or anyone else's for that matter) lightly. He commanded authority fairly well too for someone who had just been imported from another district to assist the chief's investigation- "assist" in this instance being synonymous with "usurp".

An overzealous gumshoe who refused to give his colleagues the courtesy of retiring, Manzo Sakami was thoroughly educated in the art of law and enjoyed imposing that fact on just about anyone within reach. An unsuspecting visitor to his residence would, upon entering, be faced with a valley of medals, certificates, and awards that had been accumulated during a career spanning over four decades of public service. More than half of that time had been spent honing skills on the streets of Shinjuku battling it out with the resident Yakuza clan and in the interrogation room as one of Japan's toughest legal figures. Here in the States, he had built an equally notable reputation as "Manzo The Saw" due to that tenacious character, one that never cut swiftly and cleanly but as deliberately and meticulously as possible.

"Detective, a word with you, please."

Sending one last derisive scowl around the room of failures, he paced through the open door of the chief's office with all the pomp of a cock strutting into his coop. The chief slanted back against his desk, both arms supporting from behind as large, flat hands gripped its edge. He gave the man a resentful nod, wondering if it would have been wiser to grin and bear the situation rather than lock horns with someone possessing far sharper antlers than he had. The two men were silent, the first now rubbing his temples as if attempting to escape to a private mental retreat and the second merely watching with willful determination. A song of ringing telephones looped incessantly in the background.

"We've been friends for how long?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it friendship."

There was a long sigh of frustration as bony knuckles rapped against the metal table.

"Fine, acquaintances. I just want to know one thing: where exactly do you get off by barging in here and beating your chest like an ape at my staff? We need your _help_, not showy machismo!"

Manzo digested these words briefly before leafing through the case file he had been holding all along.

"Assault and battery, criminal trespass, homicide, vehicle theft, child endangerment and abduction. Tell me, how much headway have you made in getting at least one of these charges convicted? A few pleas for the public's help whenever the nightly news has a slot to squeeze you into isn't going to cut it. All I've seen from the moment I stepped into this unit is laziness and incompetence. For Pete's sake, are you really so spineless? There is a young girl out there who needs our help!"

"Oh don't pin this all on me, you know damn well we're working our asses off to track this bastard down! I can only _work_ with the facts not change them, and the facts are we got a dead body and a missing car that we can't even locate because obviously the little sneak knows what he's doing."

"Yes, and you don't. That's why he's probably out there laughing it up in a basement somewhere while you poor fools struggle to play catch up. Now one report here states that three distinct samples of blood were recovered from the crime scene, two belonging to the victims and some that was found on Takeda's clothing and underneath his fingernails. I don't think it takes much guesswork to determine who it belongs to, especially when you have a fingerprint match."

"Fingerprints and DNA are two separate things, Sakami."

"Whatever happened to good old fashioned common sense, then? It's what we used before all these newfangled machines and biometrics methodologies came into the picture. Granted, they have their uses, but will you rely so heavily on them that you cast aside logic? Work for your goddamn paycheck!"

"I don't like what you're implying…" the chief stated sourly, wiping sweating palms with the front of his trousers.

"And I don't like your lack of passion. Not in the least."

Manzo snapped the folder shut and dismissed himself, swinging the door open in one regal swoop before stopping short and turning to face the clammy man behind him.

"I _will _find him."

With that, he exited and left a stunned superior to nurse his badly bruised ego.

* * *

She felt like a hatchling in the nest, idling the days away waiting for a beak to pop in with something to nourish her with. He would take his leave, always unannounced, sometimes returning at a reasonable hour and sometimes long after her need for the scraps of edibles he often turned up with had expired. Sometimes he didn't bring anything at all; she never asked why and he never offered an explanation.

They bathed liberally, one holding down the fort while the other made the conveniently short trip down to the stream that passed through the nearby forest like a thick vein snaking between the trees. To her astonishment, he seemed to enjoy the water's embrace a great deal, making it a point to escape to their natural cabana at least once per day- or that's what she inferred from the dripping mop of hair he appeared with each time, swishing the hoodie vigorously all over his head as if his hands were engaged in a brief but ferocious tug-of-war. This is what their lives had become for the moment, a simplistic pattern of survival utterly free of the bells and whistles modern existence coddled its constituents with. In short, it was boring, predictable, and downright wearisome. With the exception of staving off bodily odor or answering nature's call, the only time she could freely step outside was late at night when all but the occasional driver passing through the street several yards off was at rest.

Fuu giggled as the petite bundle of fluff lounging contentedly between her breast and inner arm nipped at her fingertip as she played with its precious, fangless little mouth. She had heard its soft cries from outside, scratching eagerly at the entrance of their hideout perhaps with the prospect of getting a nibble of the food it no doubt smelled. Knowing Mugen, he wouldn't be doing cartwheels upon discovering their new guest and that was just too bad; she had instantly resolved to adopt the tiny critter and there was absolutely nothing he could do or say to change that fact. It was a very welcome change to her humdrum routine and that was all that mattered.

She stroked the plush cream fur, smiling at the resulting purrs. She had never been allowed to keep pets before for one reason or other and until now hadn't realized the simple pleasures of mute company. There was no danger of falling victim to snarky remarks or impatient mutterings nor was there the constant need to be on the defense in anticipation of them. Suddenly the kitten paused, its ears pricked up high as it stared intently in the direction of the entrance as if sensing something approaching. Without wasting another moment, it attempted to scamper behind Fuu as she crept over to untie the heavy wooden board from inside and admit the frightening new stranger in. She quickly scooped it into her lap upon sitting again and rubbed its head comfortingly as it pressed its face into her body.

Mugen tumbled inside, nearly spilling the day's catch all over the ground as he hurried to secure the board once more. While he was occupied with this, Fuu chose one of the foil wrapped items at random and opened it, hoping there was something inside suitable enough to feed a young animal.

The man whistled, dropping to the ground as he snatched up a sandwich and greedily peeled it open.

"That was fun," he mumbled between big bites.

"Let me guess, you almost got caught this time didn't you?"

"Yeah, shoulda seen the sonuvabitch run too. You'd think I was makin' off with his firstborn or somethin'."

She stifled a laugh, trying to restrain the fidgeting creature in her lap as she tore a bit of ham from her hoagie and furtively placed it on her thigh for it to eat. Benefiting from thievery was far from something she could be proud of, but perhaps she was earning karma points by helping the needy (which hopefully included strays).

Having eyes from which nothing escaped, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and blinked at her suspiciously with stuffed cheeks.

"Wacha got thur?"

Fuu shifted uneasily, taking a quick bite of the sandwich in the hopes of distracting him. He would find out eventually, but if she could put that off for just a little while longer…

He swallowed hard, setting the food down slowly as he continued to harass her with questioning eyes.

"Was that a paw?"

"You must have really overexerted yourself during that run. You're seeing things."

A short mew demanding more meat shot from an unseen source within the cavern of Fuu's folded legs.

"Yeah, guess I'm startin' to hear things too huh? Unless that was just you cuttin' one loose."

The girl angrily crumpled the foil wrapper she had set aside and chucked it at him, but with fluid reflexes he shot up a hand and scoffed as it bounced harmlessly to the ground.

"You're not keepin' that thing so might as well start sayin' your goodbyes."

Her eyes widened as she clutched the kitten close like a plush toy.

"No way! I'm keeping it and I don't care what you say! You can't tell me what to do!"

"The hell I can't. You wanna live with some stinky animal pissin' and shittin' all over the place that's just fine and dandy but it ain't gonna be in here!"

"I already do live with a stinky animal! Momo _has_ to stay with us, she's too young to fend for herself!"

Mugen gaped in disbelief.

"You named it already?"

Fuu wore a pleading expression as she cuddled the animal.

"Well she looks like a _momo_..."

"What the hell is a momo?"

"It means 'peach'. She's fuzzy like one and sort of matches the color…"

Saying nothing for nearly five long minutes, he abruptly extended an open hand.

"Give it here."

Fuu clung to the kitten protectively as if shielding it from a voracious predator.

"No, you'll just toss her outside."

"If you don't hand that cat over I'mma toss _you_ outside."

With great reluctance, she inched closer to him, gently prying the kitten from the safety of her arms and surrendering it.

"Please don't hurt her, Mugen."

He drew the furry contents of his hand closer, holding it much the way one might grasp a hotdog or javelin poised for a good throw. Unceremoniously, he turned the creature so its rear faced him and pinched its tail between two fingers, lifting it as if he was quite accustomed to sexing things. Stubby legs kicked in defiance of their owner's captive position.

"It's a boy. Dunno how you managed to miss that, but I'm just gonna go with the low light and the fact his little nuts are like two peas squished together. Better call it somethin' less gay."

With that, he returned it to her and continued eating, clearly disgruntled.

"Don't say that. Momo is a great name for a male too!" Fuu retorted, rubbing its chin softly as she fed it more ham.

"So…he can stay with us then?"

She received no reply, but sometimes the absence of one tells all.

* * *

_March 9__th__, 2007_

_Can't sleep, decided to try writing in the dark. So far so good._

_Had a dream I wish I could forget. Momo is snoring and sounds like a bumblebee. Mugen is snoring and sounds like a truck but I really want to be where he is now. If I was half as brave I wouldn't be up right now trying to take my mind off of things that didn't actually happen. If I was half less me and half more him. Did that make sense? Oh well. Who makes sense at this hour anyway. I like it here but hate it too…wish things were less confusing. Wish I had Dad back. Wish it would all go away. Those are my 3 wishes right now. We do nothing every day. We eat, we sleep, we argue. That's it. So why am I thinking about him? Not so beautiful now, not like before. He's noisy and sloppy and rude and dirty and…damn him. I want to smell him again but he's too far and probably knows I'm up now. Damn. Him. I feel so woozy but it's a pretty hot night. Hate sweating. Hope I don't throw up._

* * *

Well this was new.

Normally, he was the one up by the crack of dawn and gone before she could even rub the sleep from her eyes. For the first time, he was alone to spend the morning waiting for _her _to get back, which would have had him on edge if he hadn't gotten so sick of overseeing their daily rations and activities. Sure, she could be in charge for the day if it meant he could kick back for a while, but she'd better return with breakfast or not at all. It was about time the girl started making herself useful.

Mugen's jaw extended wide for a long, healthy yawn as he cracked his neck and shoulders. Needing to relieve a swollen bladder, he dug out a small hunk of the ground and prepared to grace it with his personal brand of irrigation.

"Ow! Shit, what-"

Something sharp had pricked his abdomen, apparently from inside the sweatshirt. Thrusting an angry hand into the pouch, he bumped into something warm and fuzzy inside. The warm fuzzy thing let out a sharp squeak of disapproval, its pathetic excuse for teeth attempting to punish the invading fingers for probing into its private quarters. Mugen plucked the kitten out and dropped it to the ground.

"I let you stay here because of that whiny little goblin and this is how you thank me?"

If the creature had an answer for that one, it wouldn't have the opportunity to put in its two cents because rapid knocks at the entrance interrupted.

"Damn it, just wait a sec!" he growled, hurrying to finish his business before admitting Fuu inside. His eyes immediately searched her hands, which were both disappointingly empty.

"Ya got anything in that bag of yours there?" he demanded as he pointed to it, hoping that she did.

Wordlessly, she crawled over to her side and lay down, knees drawn up as she stared absently past him. She looked like crap.

"What the hell happened t'_you_?"

Her face twitched slightly.

"What?" he insisted.

Her lip quivered.

"_WHAT?_"

"NOTHING!"

"Don't tell me nothing, woman! You just up and leave and then come back without even a pinecone to eat and expect me to be all happy? I should eat the cat just for pullin' that shit!"

"SHUT UP MUGEN! Just leave me alone."

And then came the tears.

Confused, he glared at her harshly.

"So where were ya?"

"The river…"

"For what?"

"None of your business."

"Tell me right now or I'll-"

"NO!"

"YES!"

She cried more, turning her back to him.

"I ain't sittin' here all day playin' Twenty Questions with you. I got better shit to do with my time."

More crying.

"Okay, _last chance_. What happened? I'm countin' to five and if I don't get an answer the cat's outta here. One…"

Lots of sniffling and whimpering.

"Two…"

She moved about six different times and settled again.

"Three…" he counted with frustration, snatching the kitten up and beginning to untie the ropes of the door.

Fuu looked back at him briefly, made a strange sound, and turned away again.

"FOUR…" he threatened, pushing the board aside to let a stream of sunlight in.

Fuu was about ready to rip her hair out.

"Alright then, five. At least I'm gonna enjoy makin' a field goal with this thing."

"WAIT!"

"Nope, fair is fair. Ya had plenty of time and now kitty's gotta pay. Goodbye Mumu."

Fuu cried out, pulling the kitten away from him. She brushed tears from her eyes and cheeks as she cradled it.

Gritting his teeth, Mugen watched impatiently.

"Well?"

"I…I got…I mean it…"

"Oh for fuck's sake, just say it!"

"I GOT MY PERIOD. OKAY?"

Fresh droplets fell from her eyes as she looked away, clearly embarrassed.

He blinked quietly for a few moments, processing this information carefully.

"So, like…you're bleedin' and stuff?"

"No, I'm just leaking rainbows and daisies for my own amusement!"

He swallowed, cleared his throat, and scratched his scalp several times.

"Friggin' bullshit…" he mumbled under his breath as he left, frowning at the darkness of the sky and the rumbles it emitted.

* * *

**A note about Momo: **In the series, Momo's name is most likely a reference to the Japanese word for flying squirrel, which is "momonga". I decided to go with the "peach" definition here. I really wanted to preserve the original species from the show and it turns out that I actually could have since flying squirrels do in fact exist in the US. However, I wanted to introduce Momo now because it just seemed to "fit" for some reason and I didn't want to put it off until Mugen and Fuu were in the proper location (where flying squirrels reside). Hurray for macroevolution?


	25. Even If It Kills Me

**Chapter 24- Even If It Kills Me**

**X X X X**

"…_and we're seeing a steady rise in traffic congestion in light of an unseasonable storm originating from the Gulf of Mexico, stumping meteorologists and analysts alike. It's predicted this hurricane could develop into a Category 2 quite possibly within the hour. Again, it is strongly advised to remain indoors away from windows or other hazardous structures until further notice, so please stay tuned for up-to-the-minute news. The storm is expected to affect the following areas within the East Baton Rouge parish…"_

A muted sigh escaped the frustrated store owner. Business had slowed to a trickle recently and having to close shop because of a storm that decided to poof into existence to further deprive her of income was grossly ironic. Hurricane season wasn't supposed to begin for another two months at the very least and here was one getting a head start on wreaking havoc. Without even attempting to curb her aggravation, she picked through several more pages in one of the better selling magazines from her inventory while the voice on the radio wrapped up her extensive coverage of the worsening weather, the evidence of which could be heard colliding into the windows of the storefront. Another five or ten minutes and she'd have to surrender and start packing up. Only a complete flake would be roaming around at a time like this anyway, and if there hadn't been a single customer all day why should she expect one now?

Had she been a particularly religious woman, though, the next moment would have been the answer to her prayers. The storm door flew open with a crash, making her instinctively reach below the counter for the trusty Winchester lying patiently below. Experience had taught her that the only time a door opened that way was when the person or people behind it had ill intentions.

"You best state your business now, bustin' in here like some kinda-"

"Cram it lady. You got somethin' I need."

The man was hooded and thoroughly soaked, rainwater encircling him where he stood in a mass puddle. Head cocked low, he slammed a random denomination of wet cash onto the counter as she maintained a cautious distance from him, ensuring the weapon was easily within her reach should she wind up needing it. With hesitation, she pinched the soggy bill between her fingers.

"And what, pray tell, would that be mister?"

He murmured something quickly, as if it pained him to speak.

"I'm afraid I'll hafta ask ya to speak up."

"I said…I need…those things…" he struggled.

"I have a lot of things here, sir. What thing in particular are you lookin' for?"

"Those things you women use when you're….you know…"

Wind swept through the street with a powerful whoosh, carrying every scrap of garbage to be found along with it as cans and bottles rapped with hollow strikes against the sidewalk. In contrast, a smooth jazz number flowed from the speakers of the little boombox sitting behind the counter, its sultry notes entirely oblivious to the impending squall.

With a knowing smile, the portly woman tied her greasy locks into a stout ponytail.

"Yeah, we got sanitary napkins. What size you need?" she asked with as straight a face as she could manage.

"How in hell would I know? I don't use 'em!"

"I meant the lucky lady in question."

"Uh, small I guess. She's pretty puny. And snap it up, I don't got all day."

Just as eager to put an end to this unpleasant exchange, the storekeeper disappeared into a distant isle and promptly emerged bearing the dreaded item he was to purchase. Not even giving her the chance to reach the register again, he swiped the pack away with the swiftness of a famished seagull and melted into the curtain of water outside. She chuckled and shook her head as she set the money aside to dry, wondering if what they said about God having a sense of humor was true after all.

* * *

Fuu cowered nervously in a corner, lying as flat to the ground as possible as if this would save her from being swept away if the storm grew much stronger.

"Sounds like a tornado's brewing out there, doesn't it?" she spoke softly to Momo, who licked her hand as if she had marinated it in tuna water.

He had been gone too long. If this had been a normal day with normal, predictable weather, there would have been no need to be even mildly concerned; she could have just dismissed it as Mugen being Mugen. But as was her custom during times of distress, perceived or otherwise, irrational fears began surfacing little by little. A chill ran though her as cold rain dripped down between the gaps above, doubling her discomfort as she fought to ignore the growing ache pulsing within her abdomen.

Normally, thoughts whirled through her mind in constant motion like autumn leaves in the wind, never settling in one place for very long. They had somehow ceased though, and she was indifferent as to the cause. Over time she had developed quite a talent for distracting herself with improvised stories or arbitrary questions about whatever attracted her curiosity, but all that occupied her brain now was this moment: the bellows of pitiless winds and the collapse of ancient trees unable to withstand them. She never thought that nature could be this volatile without warning, even having lived through the infamously mutable climate of her native land. The last rain spell she had gotten caught in came to mind now and it was a paltry drizzle compared to this. She doubted Mugen would be able to see well enough to find his way back.

The metal objects outside squealed sharply as harsh gusts assaulted them and a frightful rattling shot from what was probably the swing set. The very walls around her groaned as if they would be torn away at the slightest ounce of pressure. Each time she was sure the wind would carry her away, it seemed to die down just enough to give her a false sense of security. Toying with her. At times she could go so far as to assume the storm was deliberately choosing to pass her by, saving her for later as a finishing gulp to quench its thirst for destruction. Holding the kitten closer as if he would somehow have the ability to shield her, she closed her eyes.

* * *

Why was he doing this?

The answer was irrelevant at this point. Everyone was entitled to plummet to the lowest levels of idiocy at least once in his or her lifetime, and this just happened to be his chance to stake that claim.

Mugen strained against the gale opposing his every step, nearly blind from the endless volumes of water cascading down on him. This was just a taste of what was to come; the real beast had yet to be unleashed and he just needed to reach Fuu in time. No, to hell with _her_. He just needed to move his ass to anyplace that wasn't being flooded to the hills.

A random assortment of items flew past at regular intervals, only complicating his journey further as he did his best to avoid being thrashed by whatever wasn't securely bolted in place. More than once he was knocked clear off his feet, clinging to the nearest lamp post or rail until the wind subsided enough to allow movement again. Numerous opportunities to escape had presented themselves, but as badly as he wanted throw in the towel and find a cave to dive into, abandoning Fuu seemed unthinkable. What would she do if he didn't show up? He brushed an ugly thought from his mind as he inched past what might have been a leg belonging to the rusty old crab guarding the face of the seafood restaurant he had pointed out to Fuu weeks before. Just a bit further.

* * *

Misery smothered her. If she wasn't so wet, cold, and in pain she would have gladly vented her troubles into her diary, which she prayed wouldn't be too badly damaged by the time this was all over. A sudden shrill howl of wind made her shout as it whistled through the nooks and crannies of her humble little castle of rope and lumber.

Wrapping Momo up with the front of her threadbare shirt, she shivered and did her best to ignore the fact that she had bled straight through the layered strips of material she cut from one of the spare sacks Koza had packed for them. The wind picked up once again, far more furiously than before. Something heavy slammed dangerously close to the area where she currently lay; to her relief, whatever it was had failed to break through.

And then, just barely cutting through the turbulence, was his voice. He punched the board urgently, yelling for her to open up. Awful words were fired from behind the shabby wood as she hurried to untie it, fumbling and shaking anxiously as she did.

A sorry sight was revealed to her. There he was, teeth bared and clenched, clearly using everything in his possession to avoid being carried off. With one arm locked around the sliding pole, he worked his free hand into the pouch of his saturated clothing and with difficulty hurled the package inside. Meanwhile, palm leaves- ripped from trees perhaps a mile away- swirled past him like shredded ribbon. Fuu pushed herself forward, crawling against the force determined to send her flying back. Her heart raced wildly as she reached for him.

"Get back! Stay inside!" he hollered, batting her hand away as he blinked the water from his eyes. If he so much as breathed the wrong way, he'd easily lose his grip. To prevent this, he wrapped himself around the object in the off chance that he could hold this position until the storm relented. Unabated, Fuu attempted a number of times to grab hold of him, being bitterly scolded each time.

"You wanna die?" he squawked, chucking her arm aside.

"Do you?" she called above the roar of the storm.

He seemed to think the question over, staring at her in stony silence. She gaped back, waiting for an answer. Somehow, there was a morbid loveliness about the way the water slid down his spiked bangs, falling from his face in rivulets as the flesh of his neck grew taut from the strain of hanging onto dear life. Or perhaps life was not so dear. Perhaps instinct was acting in place of reason, the latter of which might have whispered in his ear to just let go. The voice he probably would have listened to if she wasn't giving him that look right now.

He slipped, the skin of his palm squeaking against slick metal. Rain dropped harder in a sudden violent rush, bolts of lightening etched into the sky like cracks on a fallen vase.

Fuu wondered how many other people were in the same boat they were, knowing full well that there weren't any and that for whatever reason it had been predetermined that the difficulty of their lives would peak upon crossing each other's paths, like a bad chemical reaction.

He slipped again, cursing as his body was jerked about and fighting to keep hold with one hand. Standing now, Fuu partially threw herself around his shoulders, gripping the edge of the entrance. He smirked.

"You're the biggest damn idiot alive, you know that?" he mumbled into her ear.

With that, a rough shove sent her hurtling back.

Another squeak of skin against water.

He was gone.

* * *

Rolling thunder echoed beyond the mountains. If it hadn't been for her voice, piercing though the air, not a sound would be heard otherwise. But the girl had no other choice but to temporarily give up; her throat was practically raw from calling for him for so long. For most, the possibility of a fatality would have been real enough to quash whatever hope there may have been in finding such a missing person intact, let alone at all. No such possibility existed to her, however. Someone like Mugen did not just simply accept defeat, even when pitted against the very forces of nature itself. Evidence of his humanity was scare enough as it was and there was even less of his mortality. He had survived. There wasn't an alternative.

Fuu trudged through the muddied grounds, the earth squishing with every step. She shuddered slightly as she passed through the once pristine scenery of the park. Everything was twisted, overturned, wrecked, or missing entirely. Branches littered the area like dismembered limbs in a warzone.

A sudden cry of alarm from the depths of her shirt redirected her attention. Without realizing, she had been smothering the poor animal into her bosom to the point of nearly asphyxiating him.

"Sorry Momo" she said hoarsely, relocating him to one of the emptier bags she carried.

As she progressed through the gnarled chaos all around, Fuu eventually convinced herself that this was not the last they would see of nature's anger. There was no perceptible evidence to suggest this, but the ordeal was imprinted into her memory now and had little chance of fading with time. As silly as the notion was, she would probably go the rest of her life expecting the heavens to part and wash the world away once and for all like a villain exacting sweet revenge. It was a marvel how people could tolerate these things.

Her search would be frequently interrupted by the need for rest; a pervading weakness took hold of her from time to time that defied explanation. She ruled out lack of eating because they had dined well the night before on a mixed banquet of purchased and purloined items that made the first full meal they had seen in days. Ascribing the strange sensation to either stress or her current female condition, Fuu sallied forth. In short time, however, she was forced to stop again, taking a seat on a small uprooted tree lying at the threshold of the stretch of woods just ahead.

So Mugen had done another good deed and his reward this time around was being catapulted to the boonies. No wonder the guy was so irritable; he could have probably cured cancer or achieved world peace by now if life didn't have such a vendetta against him. She considered how he looked just before disappearing, seeming almost satisfied that he had taken the insane risk of soldiering through a hurricane just to get her a box of pads. _That kind of thing just doesn't happen in real life_, she thought. It was something one might stumble across in a work of fiction maybe, but no man willingly does something that perfectly stupid unless…no. It was clear that he felt about as much love for her as a nun does for a pentagram in the holy water. There had to be some other motive behind these seemingly noble actions. It was silly to believe that he actually cared about her, but it was worse to think the opposite when the evidence was staring her dead in the eye. Maybe he was just using her as a pawn to win back karma points for living a debauched life. Whatever the reason, she felt grateful to have him at her side, if only for a while.

* * *

_March 11th, 2007_

_Had to take a break. It's been almost two days and there's no sign of him. I was sure he'd be around here somewhere but I guess I was wrong. Please don't let me be wrong._

_March 12th (midday?)_

_Trying to make the food last but I'm not sure how much control I can muster. There are berries, acorns, and little else to eat and I'm not sure what's safe and what isn't. Momo caught a chipmunk and I tried so hard not to cry as he started chewing its tiny legs…but I couldn't stop him either because I have nothing left to feed him. If only I could flip the switch on my emotions like some people._

_March 12th (evening)_

_It isn't really so bad here as long as you come prepared, which I don't think I am. I have no way of finding out what kind of animals live here so you can just imagine how it feels tiptoeing around, never knowing what can jump out at you at any moment. It's much, much worse than trying to find a phone in the dark on a rocking boat, trust me._

_I made my first fire, but it sure took a while. The next time I get marooned in the middle of the woods I'll make sure to bring a lighter with me. They make it look so easy on TV using just your palms and a few sticks but you may have an easier time getting blood from stone. And to think there was a time I actually wanted to see what camping was like!_

_But poor Mugen…I shouldn't be writing about such stupid things when he could be out there injured or worse._

_Hope I find him soon._

* * *

The blood was still warm on her hands as she watched the carcass-in-progress with disbelief. It kicked and squirmed as it lay dying and she wished very much for it to speed the process up; each moment it languished there was another moment she flinched inside.

Her mind flew into instant replay: there it was, the Goliath of Boars, sniffing at the body. Testing the flesh with its teeth, prodding with its tusks. It was surely three times her weight but that didn't stop her. How could she let it eat him? So she had taken the sharpest thing she could find and drove it straight into its piggy jugular, having little idea what a jugular was but feeling fairly certain it was not a great place to have a yard-long splintered tree branch plowed into. The animal charged and thrashed in a murderous rage for a good minute before collapsing. She hadn't put any thought into the attack. She had simply identified danger and reacted accordingly.

The pile of debris the beast had discovered twitched. She had hurried over to it, scooping mud and leaves away to expose a hand. Then an arm. Then a face. Fuu's shoulders dropped with relief as he looked up at her, not with the milky gaze of death but with an impish grin only a mad rush of testosterone and adrenaline could produce.

"Gotta do that again sometime," Mugen announced faintly as he slowly emerged from his mucky tomb. It was a miracle he wasn't in pieces, this fact fortified by his resolve to hobble around without assistance. He resembled something from a 1950s monster movie, having all the classic makings of a swamp creature as a collection of twigs and other plant matter coated every inch of him.

Fuu shook her hands briskly in the deepest puddle available, watching as the light brown liquid gradually changed to a cloudy garnet.

"Which part, soaring above the trees or almost becoming dinner?" she asked, still amazed he could even stand.

"Whaddaya mean?" he returned, occupied with peeling a petrified salamander from his forearm. He dangled it by its tail, inquisitively scrutinizing the wriggling critter as if considering whether it would make a suitable snack. The two locked gazes, the amphibian's beady eyes seeming to beg for compassion and Mugen's seeming to relish this short-term position of absolute authority over another living being.

"Meh…" he shrugged with sudden boredom, pitching his tiny hostage over his shoulder like chewed gum. Fuu frowned as it bounced off of a tree trunk and scurried into the safety of the foliage.

"You keep that up and you're going to earn yourself a big shiny ticket to hell, Mugen."

The man sneezed, sending a stream of mud and snot into the ground. Upon opening his eyes again, he finally caught sight of the pig, its body bulging like a wart from the land's surface. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the slain animal.

"Looks like ya covered that trip for us both, eh?"

She combed her fingers through the tangled mess that was her hair, tying it back as neatly as she could manage before rising and joining him in observing the corpse. With arms crossed, she paced around it several times to make sure it was still dead, perhaps under the impression that hogs had a nasty habit of reanimating post mortem.

"So what now?" she asked with a tired voice.

"Porkchops," he replied with a swiftness implying that the answer should have been obvious.

Fuu resisted the wave of nausea that followed.

* * *

Neither one having experience in butchery, the subsequent two hours dragged by all too slowly as Mugen mutilated their supper, armed with only steely courage and the utility knife Fuu had handed him, looking in all directions but down as he sliced and hacked away.

"This is some nasty shit…" he grunted, hitting bone as he attempted to wrestle a cutlet free.

"You're the one who came up with the brilliant idea of eating the thing, I told you we should have found something else."

He stopped and peered over his shoulder, up to the elbows in gore.

"Yeah, like what? Why don't you go and find somethin' else then?"

"I should have let him eat YOU, then all our problems would be solved, wouldn't they?"

Eyes rolling hard, he returned to his gruesome labor.

"Another word outta ya and this job's gonna be all yours, babe. Keep runnin' that mouth."

To his wonder, she didn't. Instead, she paced for a long while in silence until she could no longer take the sounds of tearing flesh and crunching ligaments so that she got to work building what would make her second fire, creating as much noise as possible to drown out what Mugen was doing.

"Man, what the hell did you use on this thing, a harpoon launcher?" he remarked, trying unsuccessfully to wrench the branch out.

"I don't see how it matters since we're not using anything from that part of the pig" she sighed, on the verge of throwing a fit after failing to get a single spark going.

Momo crawled out of his bag, sniffing the air cautiously as he watched his human friends. After giving himself the all-clear, he waddled up to Fuu and planted his fluffy posterior onto the driest patch of ground he could find to observe her.

"Hey, every bit counts. Those days of silver platters and lobster dinners are over."

"Well you can dine on pork heads if you want but I'll pass," she answered stubbornly.

Their banter screeched to a halt as the sky expressed its disapproval with a crash from afar. From that point forward, not another word was uttered as efforts were doubled and hands worked with new diligence.

* * *

A mighty belch shot through the forest, causing Momo to wake and Fuu to shake her head.

"So how's it feel to be a cannibal?" she inquired mockingly, gesturing to the partially skeletal remains of their meal. They had taken as much as they could for one night, hoping the rest would remain salvageable in case they could devise a way to preserve the meat.

Mugen yawned, falling back against the sturdy oak behind him and rubbing his bloated belly with half-shut eyes.

"Seriously, put a lid on it. It ain't cute anymore."

"Who said I was trying to be cute?"

"God, do you _ever_ shut up? Why don't women come with OFF buttons…"

"We can't, we're too busy making sure you men don't screw everything up."

Mugen seemed more alert now, but astoundingly less eager for battle.

"Yeah, how's that bleeding thing goin' for ya?"

Hushed by a surge of embarrassment, she settled down.

"Like you care…"

He brushed excess grime from his face and hands, discovering some fresh cuts and bruises from his latest violent encounter. The nightly soundtrack he had grown accustomed to was noticeably lacking as he dealt with the wearying task of arguing with a menstruating woman.

"I don't, just thought I'd remind ya how we wound up here."

"Well I saved your life, so we're even now. Don't even try to throw that in my face."

Finding little joy in retaliating, Mugen stretched out onto his side, looking like a dirty old hound neglected by its master. Although it was difficult staying upset with him, she disliked being put into awkward positions that left her pitying him in some way as if she were dealing with a perpetually naughty child who she had no other choice but to forgive. She watched as he dozed in and out like a flickering light that couldn't decide between staying on or off. His eyes never seemed to miss her each time they opened, though.

"You know this has to end eventually, right?" he stated lethargically, wisps of embers curling and darting past his face, highlighting stained skin and disastrously soiled hair. It was hard to take the somber statement seriously when all she could see in front of her was an icky version of Einstein. Sighing, she rummaged through each of the bags until she discovered a comb, now missing teeth, and one of the few washcloths to survive the horrid trip so far.

"Well not before you at least get cleaned up. You look like something that crawled out of a dumpster," she informed him as she approached, wondering where to even begin. Choosing an area of his head at random, she dabbed the comb into some water and got to it.

"I'm fine," he protested.

She proceeded regardless, extracting an interesting variety of things she couldn't for the life of her understand the presence of.

"How did you get a _gummy bear_ in there?" she twittered to herself with awe.

"I said I'm fine, lay off…"

Fuu's brow creased in deep concentration as she tried prying the tenacious candy from his scalp, making him yelp.

"Shit! What do you think I am, one'a your stupid dolls? Watch it!"

She smiled inside, filled with a passing sense of mischief as she continued the compulsory grooming session.

"Ya might as well stop now before I end up bald" he continued, flopping around and settling again not much further from where he originally lay.

"You'd look a heck of a lot better than you do now, that's for sure."

Mugen surrendered; he didn't bother to let her know about it the next time she pulled too hard or scraped too roughly. By the time she had finished working out every mat, knot, and tangle, he was practically asleep. As she ran the cloth along every visible area of his body, she realized that they had just about run out of usable drinking water; they would have to keep moving tomorrow if there was any hope of securing more.

"Wait a sec…" he said suddenly.

Disappointed that he was awake again, she paused.

"Yes?"

He rubbed his eye with a closed fist.

"Isn't that supposed to be like a once-a-month thing?"

"You really woke up just to ask me that?"

He moved away slightly, readjusting an arm beneath his head.

"It's weird, is all. How come you're just gettin' it now and not before?"

"How come you're so interested? That's pretty weird too. Creepy, actually."

"Whatever…"

She hardly saw the need to share such personal information but decided that whatever topic didn't result in a yelling match was probably a safe bet, even if discussing it made her a little queasy.

"I have a disorder," she said plainly.

"So that makes you some kinda freak then?"

She dragged the rag over an open wound on his palm, making him wince.

"Yes Mugen, it does. Are we done?

"Nah, havin' too much fun with this."

In actuality, he tended to delight in the suffering of others, however small the matter. Although possessing enough self-awareness to recognize these mild bouts of sadism, he couldn't really help himself. Even so, it felt a little wrong having such feelings toward Fuu and he made a modest attempt to correct this with a statement that took them both for a loop.

"So guess you can never have kids then."

Fuu was rarely taken aback anymore by the man's words or actions, but this one would probably reign supreme for a long while. Where could he be going with this?

"I guess not…"

He rubbed his eyes again, watching as Momo scampered around the campsite chasing insects.

"Must suck," he said.

Fuu plucked the last fragment of debris from his hair and discarded it.

"I don't see how, I'm too young to even be thinking about that stuff anyway."

"Won't be seventeen forever, gotta get a man sometime. Probably would help if you weren't such a b-"

"A what?" she growled, eyes narrowing.

"Nothin'."

Momo produced a feeble hiss, swatting his paws wildly at something neither of them could see. Flustered, the kitten about-faced and marched over to the flattest stone there was and curled up upon it to pout.

"Anyway, I had a boyfriend once" she said, deciding to take the opportunity to experiment with previously unexplored territory.

"Yeah, _had_. Sure know how to pick 'em."

"Jin wasn't my boyfriend. He was hardly even a friend."

When Mugen didn't probe any further, she volunteered additional details for the sake of keeping the conversation going.

"Actually, it was someone I met during a winter tour a few years ago. Of course I had to keep it a secret and he eventually got tired of hiding the relationship so it didn't last very long."

Mugen scoffed.

"You were still a kid, what relationship? Musta been an imaginary friend."

"I don't have to prove anything to you."

He flicked a pebble into the darkness of the woods beyond.

"So didja fuck 'im?"

Fuu shuddered; he was really on a roll tonight. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to crown a winner for Bizarre Question of the Year. And evidently the chat was veering far off course into waters she wasn't willing to tread.

"What is _wrong_ with you? I'm not answering that!"

He shrugged as if the question had been a perfectly reasonable one.

Her plan backfired. She had wanted to test him and instead opened a can of worms that should never have been opened. Now she felt bad for inventing such a ridiculous story. Discomfort quickly setting in, she scuttled away to join Momo, now snoring blissfully and perhaps catching beetles in his dreams.

"You are such a bad liar," Mugen chuckled softly, tossing a few more leaves into the fire to prevent it from burning out.

* * *

The following morning arrived rather uneventfully, something that could have had Fuu doing cartwheels if only she felt up to it. Rest had eluded her most of the night, the danger of prowling wildlife or another surprise storm looming too heavily over her head to let her do anything but fidget the time away until daybreak. It was mind-blowing how Mugen managed to snooze without a care in the world after experiencing what should have been a traumatic event just hours earlier.

The air was humid and immensely thick, causing her to nod off; the steady hum of flies only served to lull her to sleep even faster as she struggled to remain awake, feeling like a flea swimming through molasses as she gradually succumbed. She couldn't quite tell, but she may have hit something on the way down.

With each step, it was becoming obvious that there would be nothing remotely reptilian to add to the photo album yet. A catalogue of squirrels, sparrows, frogs and one proud stag graced the pages of the newly purchased book, but not so much as a turtle had been kind enough to strike a pose for the camera.

It was the buzzing that distracted him, but the odor that compelled him. Abandoning his quest for cold-blooded beasties for the moment, the explorer tucked the brochure in his hands away and followed his ears. If he was fortunate, perhaps he would discover a bear vandalizing a beehive for the succulent treat inside. It would be the showpiece of his collection.

Instead of this idyllic storybook scene, there was blood. Lots of blood. And a smell so putrid the man pulled the souvenir shirt he wore up over his face to prevent it from further assaulting his nostrils. Accompanying this fragrance was a blanket of flies dancing upon a massacred pig…or what was left of it. Most astounding of all, however, were the people sprawled directly beside this repulsive atrocity, one lying flat on his belly while the other seemed to have passed out face first into one of his open hands. Unsure of exactly what he had stumbled across and praying the two were simply friendly hillbillies taking a mid-morning siesta, he carefully stepped forward for a closer look.

"Dah…'ello?" he called softly.

When no sign of life occurred, he attempted to prod one out of them. It was no use.

By now, he feared the worst. In one last desperate attempt to rouse them, he inhaled a hearty volume of air and bawled,

"YOU TWO VAKE UP NOW, JA? IS VAKEY UP TIME NOW!"

A harmonious pair of screams returned his call, the female clamoring in a clear state of confusion as the male withdrew a small blade from his sleeve, swishing it about like a hyperactive pirate.

"Back off asshole or so help me God I'll have your sack for a trophy!" Mugen warned, his vision still in the process of focusing.

Fuu, meanwhile, was pinned back against the nearest tree, eyes fixed on the stranger like a rabbit in the crosshairs.

The man sighed, giving them a broad, goofy smile as his blue eyes twinkled.

"You guys give me big scare! I am thinking you are dead or something, good to see you are not!" he declared with exuberance. He may as well have won the lottery.

Mugen snorted, rolling to his knees as Fuu coughed from the stink permeating the area.

The man extended a tremendous hand.

"You come vith me and have big morning food, ja? I pay vith American dollars!"

Fuu looked over to Mugen, who looked over at her.

"Do not be vith ze shy! What are you two calling yourselves?" the giant asked.

Fuu, ever eager to forge friendships, answered sheepishly,

"I'm Fu-…"

Mugen shot a chilly look her way, daring her to finish the word.

"-uuuulinda. Fuulinda!" she blurted.

The man blinked. Fuu gulped.

"That is beautiful name!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together, "Come, we eat pancakes now!" He gestured for them to follow as he turned to get a head start back to town, red ponytail wagging with each happy stride.

Mugen was already pushing past her with a limp, handing over the bag containing Momo as he shouldered the rest.

"Come on Fuulinda, if you're a good girl ya might get a treat later."

Fuu breathed in deeply, relaxing her muscles as she fantasized of drowning him in a bottomless vat of syrup.


End file.
